(How to Retrieve) Silver Balloons
by The Original XYZed
Summary: Five years after the events of Total Drama; Gwen, Heather, Bridgette, Lindsay, and Courtney are living their (somewhat) ordinary young adulthoods, until they're kidnapped by a mysterious organization and forced into employment. Are our heroines safe? What are their abductors actually trying to accomplish? And is Chris McLean secretly masterminding everything?
1. I: Is This How We Got Here?

**Chapter I:** **Is This How We Got Here?**

 _ **Calabasas, California**_

"We're so happy to finally see you, Ms. Charles! Please, take a seat on the couch."

Gwen shook hands with the suit-wearing man before shuffling across the table from him. The leather on the sofas looked pristine, a little too pristine for her tastes, and the table gave the appearance of being worth more then the GDP of a small country.

"Are you the executive that we've been in contact with?" Gwen asked, "Uh… Jonathan Curtis is your name, right?"

"Why yes, I am, but please, call me Jonny. I know you might not believe it, but we do want you to think of us as friends."

Jonny was right, she didn't believe it. How could she though, she was here to sign a record contract, not to bond over similar preference in décor. Though she certainly wouldn't have minded if the couches were a little less ostentatious… maybe it would've made her feel a bit more comfortable.

"Oh, how silly of me, I didn't ask you if you wanted a drink," Jonny chuckled, "We could get you coffee, tea, water…"

"Actually, now that you mention it, I would like a coffee," Gwen said, "It was a long flight."

"Eileen, could you please make us both a coffee!" Jonny shouted towards his kitchen, "So, hopefully we have the pleasantries out of the way now, though if there's anything you need please feel free to speak up."

"Uh, yeah, no problem I guess," Gwen said nervously. Just looking at Jonny, she saw a man sitting confidently across from her, with a perfectly coiffed suit, a dangling gold chain, and a gleam across his face. He came to battle, and this was a battle he'd fought, and won, before. Gwen, on the other hand, didn't even so much as have an agent, let alone any experience with these kinds of stakes.

"So, I listened to Red Eye all the way through," he said, referring to Gwen's free mixtape, "And I must say I was impressed by the ingenuity, even if the production quality left something to be desired."

"And that's where you come in, I'm guessing," Gwen said.

"I knew you were a smart girl," he said, "Here at Pacific Sound we can provide you with professional quality production to match your unique sound."

As Jonny finished that sentence, Eileen brought around the cups of coffee, complete with a tray of sugar, cream, and the like. He thanked her, then took a gentle sip from the cup. Gwen merely poured a packet of sugar in hers and lazily stared at it.

"I will be able to bring my team though, right?" Gwen asked, "Trent and Knox are just as much a part of Gwen Charles as I am, I don't think I'll be able to do any of this without them."

"Oh, for sure, we can accommodate your in-house production team," Jonny said, "By the same token though, it wouldn't hurt you to branch out a little, right? I mean even Drake works with people other then 40 sometimes, no?"

"Right…" Gwen said, not completely convinced.

"And of course, the other musical aspect we can give you is a lane to market yourself in," Jonny said, "You have a mixtape that went viral and that everyone loved, but people still aren't quite sure what to think of you. Are you going to be the next SZA? Are you going to try and market yourself as a female version of The Weeknd?"

"Yeah, about that," Gwen said, finally taking a slow sip of her drink, "Look, whenever I see comments about my music on Reddit or wherever, its always a comparison to another contemporary artist; like _'oh, she's the white SZA'_ or whatever. But I don't want to be the next whoever, firstly because its not who I am, but also because isn't that just dooming me to lower monetary returns then any of them?"

"You're precisely right Gwen; god I love a woman who knows how to talk business," Jonny chuckled, making Gwen feel even smaller in her seat then she already did. "So, I actually have a unique angle from which you can work from."

"Hmm, and that would be?"

"Well, you used to be a reality star, right? Total Drama Island, if I'm not mistaken."

"Uh… yeah. Why?"

"Don't you think that could work as a pitch?" Jonny asked, "Reality show diva turned alt-R&B critical darling. Folks will be ceaselessly wondering; how did this happen? What changed in this intervening 5 years that changed you from a fake star to a real one?"

"Okay, I wasn't a diva on Total Drama Island," Gwen said, "I was the goth chick. I'm _still_ the goth chick."

"Yeah yeah, its just buried beneath this layer of self-conscious artificial showbiz and bottled blonde dye," Jonny said, "Apologies, sweetheart, but I've heard this tale before."

"Not even buried," Gwen countered, "I mean what's more goth then tricking stupid record execs into thinking you've gone Hollywood because you dyed your hair."

Gwen quickly realized what she'd said, however, and tried to make nice: "Uh, I didn't mean you, I meant like other record executives…"

"Well, you certainly are full of surprises," Jonny said, "Though don't even think about saying that again. But onto the matter at hand, I sense some resistance my idea."

"Yeah. Look, I had a lot of bad experiences with Total Drama, and I really don't want to rip open old scabs."

"I understand that," Jonny said, "And look, if we were meeting in a neutral setting, person-to-person, I'd give you a big hug and tell you that you never have to speak about your experiences until you feel comfortable doing so. But look, this is the entertainment industry, and like it or not ripping open old scabs is a goldmine."

"Maybe, but what about the toll it takes on my psyche."

"What happened, happened, Ms. Charles," Jonny said, "These events will continue to plague your psyche no matter what. But it seems to me you have a choice here; either you can suffer in silence, or you can use your pain and trauma to make us shitloads of money. Actually, no, forget me, to make _you_ shitloads of money."

Gwen said nothing and squirmed a little, so Jonny continued.

"Besides, won't you be able to afford better therapists once you're rich?"

"I suppose so," Gwen said hesitantly, "Alright, you win."

Jonny smirked, "Excellent. Ooh but one more thing though."

"What's that?"

"Well, I quite like your outfit," he said, glaring up and down and Gwen's business suit, "Its very professional and it actually suits you well, pun intended of course."

"Yes," Gwen said, "But…?"

"But, as I said when we first met, we're all friends here at Pacific. You can wear something a little more casual, a little more, uh, _free-spirited_ if you catch my drift."

"Oh," Gwen said.

"Hell, you're about to be a popstar, girl," Jonny said, "Go wild, get creative. But not right now, right now its contract signing time."

"Wait, hold on just a sec," Gwen said, "I need to talk to a lawyer first, right?"

"Oh, certainly," Jonny said, "We'll provide you with one of our top-notch in house lawyers to boot."

"Uh…" Gwen said.

"Oh, I get it, you're worried about prices, right?" Jonny said, "Don't worry, our rates are much cheaper then anything you'll get from outside Pacific Sound."

"Jonny, its not the rates I'm worried about," Gwen said, "If you have your lawyers reviewing your contract, how am I supposed to know if its fair, or hell even if its legal? There's a conflict of interest is what I'm saying."

"Okay, I see where you're coming from," Jonny said, "But keep this in mind as well: since its our offer, we have the legal right to rescind it at any time until you put your name on the dotted line. So, you can leave the house, take the contract home, and study it with as many lawyers as you can get if you so choose, but let's not forget that when you return the next day, the terms and conditions might change."

At this point, Gwen was beginning to feel like the uncomfortable and alien décor was at least partially intentional, a deliberate attempt to make the employee feel out of her league and perhaps even a little unwelcome. Or if that wasn't a deliberate aesthetic choice, it was definitely a happy accident on Pacific's part.

"If you need to think about it I can give you a little time; 10, 15, 20 minutes if you so choose. I of course can't be here the whole day-"

At this moment, Eileen popped her head back into the living room. This seemed to surprise Jonny, though he regained his composure startlingly quickly. Gwen, on the other hand, stayed confused.

"The boss would like to see you upstairs, Ms. Charles," Eileen said in a noticeable Latino accent, though Gwen had no way of nailing the region down any more specifically.

"Is everything alright?" Jonny asked.

"Yes, everything's fine," Eileen continued, "This won't take too long, he's just looking to have a few words."

"Well, it looks like this is where we part ways, at least for now," Jonny said to Gwen while holding his right arm out, "It was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope everything goes as smoothly as possible with the big man."

"Yeah, likewise," Gwen said and shook his hand, but she wasn't really paying attention. Who was the boss, why did he want to speak with her, and why did something about this feel not quite right?

"Right this way please, Ms. Charles," Eileen said, and guided the other girl up two flights of stairs to a dimly-lit hallway on the third floor.

"Enter the second door on your left and please wait, the boss will be with you momentarily," Eileen said, but just before Gwen turned the knob she also added "oh, and good luck."

 _Good luck? What the hell?_ Okay, this was beginning to get strange, but Gwen really wasn't in a position to argue. _Its probably just nerves and a tense conversation with Jonny getting to me,_ she thought.

Gwen shut the door behind her and turned around to find, well, nothing. The room was pitch black dark, and also strangely warmer then the rest of the house, so Gwen naturally began looking for a light switch. She did actually find one just about a foot left of the door, but it did nothing, and she couldn't see further into the room to tell if there was another one. She also began feeling really lightheaded all of a sudden, like she'd just stepped into a wall of humidity, only somehow angrier, like the heat was being directed at her. Then, seemingly without warning, her legs began to give out and last she remembered falling… falling…

* * *

 _ **Burnaby, British Columbia**_

"Hello, welcome to Chipotle, can I take your order?"

"Actually, I'm looking to speak to the manager," the customer inquired.

"That would be me. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes actually, my husband ordered a burrito bowl from your location yesterday, and it was overstuffed with lettuce. Do you remember who made his food?"

"Uh… no, unfortunately I do not. But I'll make sure to remind all of our workers to stick to the Chipotle standard amount of lettuce. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

The customer then glared curiously at the worker for a few seconds, saying nothing. After what seemed like eons, she finally spoke.

"Are you sure you're the manager…" she paused to check the nametag, " _Bridgette._ You look awfully young."

"Yes, I'm quite sure, but I appreciate your concern," Bridgette said with a smile.

"I only bring that up because its customary for Chipotle to give a full refund to anyone who's unsatisfied with their purchase here, but I guess you young people do things differently."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, that's never been our policy. But, uh, if you're looking to purchase something today we can give you a 20% discount."

"So you won't mind if I go ahead and phone up the owner of this establishment, right?" the lady said, "I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that one of his employees was giving a loyal customer a hassle."

Bridgette sighed in resignation, "Alright, I will get you your full refund. Do you have the receipt for your husband's purchase?"

"Why would I carry that?" the lady asked, "Food isn't tax deductible."

"That's not why I- you know what, forget it. Do you remember what he ordered?"

"Well, it was a burrito bowl, I know that."

"Yes, you mentioned that," Bridgette said, "But as you can see on the menu, burrito bowls are priced differently depending on which meat you order. Also, if he got any sides or a drink that would increase the price as well, so that's relevant information here too."

At this point the lady was getting visibly flustered, "Well how am I supposed to remember that?"

"That's why I asked about the receipt," Bridgette said, "But if you can't remember, I'm just going to refund the price of a chicken bowl with no sides. We have a bit of a line forming, and neither of us want to spend all day standing here guessing, no?"

"And short change me? Yeah, I don't think so!" the lady said, "You know what, keep your money. We'll just be taking our business elsewhere."

And with her last word, the lady stormed off, rendering their conversation absolutely pointless and leaving a sad, bewildered Bridgette with nothing but her own thoughts and the quickly forming lineup that looked like it was starting to get annoyed with her.

"Welcome to Chipotle, can I take your order?" Bridgette asked quickly, "And sorry for the wait."

Once the line had cleared up a bit and the restaurant was quiet, Bridgette quietly slinked off to the backroom where she encountered one of her workers nibbling on her sandwich. Bridgette pulled up a chair next to her, put her head in her hands and just sighed. For like a good five minutes.

"Can you believe these fucking people?" she said, "You did see what happened, right?"

"Oh yes, it was horrible," the worker said, albeit through a thick Indian accent, "She was really just a nightmare."

"I just don't understand how anyone can go through life like that. How does that lady not look at herself in the mirror one day and just think _'hey, am I like a monster or something?'"_

The other girl laughed.

"Anyway, at least I'm done in an hour," Bridgette said, "You're closing up tonight, right Rupinder?"

"Right," Rupinder said, "And you're opening tomorrow?"

"Correct. Ugh, I am so not looking forward to being here at 8 in the morning."

"I know," Rupinder said, "Like I always hear my alarm go off, and I just think like _'one more hour please.'"_

"I usually just wish I was surfing, god its been too damn long," Bridgette said, "Anyways, I gotta get back out to the front, see you in 10 when your break's done."

The remainder of Bridgette's shift went pretty uneventfully, Chipotle customers are pretty frequently a pain, but these ones weren't really any more painful then normal. Finally, the clock struck 7, which meant Bridgette could finally start packing up and head home. But just after she punched out, she was stopped by Rupinder.

"Hey, sorry if its an awkward time, but like, what happened with you and surfing?"

"Oh," Bridgette said, "Uh, well, at first it was my right knee, I kept having problems with that shit. Nothing debilitating or anything like that, but just minor issues that prevented me from heading out to the waters. Nowadays my knee is fine, but… well, y'know," she continued, pointing to her tummy.

"Oh, of course," Rupinder laughed, "I was just curious cause I knew you as like the surfer girl, right? But you never really brought it up until now."

"Wait how would you- oh, from the show?" Bridgette asked, "Total Drama Island; try as hard as I can I can't escape its lumbering shadow."

"Oh I'm sorry if I'm bringing back bad memories," Rupinder quickly added.

"No its fine, I don't mind talking about it," Bridgette said, "Like it or not, it's a part of my history, right? Anyway, I gotta head out now, but if you're interested in knowing more about surfing feel free to hit me up."

"Right, definitely," Rupinder said softly as she turned away from the blonde girl.

Bridgette watched the front door swing close behind her as she began walking home. She was lucky, she lived close enough to home that she could walk, and it didn't look like it was going to rain tonight, though with Vancouver weather you never know for sure. It was weird that Bridgette would think like this, but she often felt bad whenever she left Rupinder to close up for the night. Not that she wasn't capable of it, Bridgette knew she was. But, well, she was the shift manager, and she felt weird leaving her trainee to just pick up the pieces for her. Still though, she needed her rest for tomorrow and she wasn't about to give that up to appease her lingering guilt.

As she was walking down the street, Bridgette felt a rubber ball hit her in the leg. This wasn't terribly unusual, there were children who lived around here, and it wasn't uncommon for one of them to be accidentally intrusive. But when she picked up the ball and looked around to seek out who's it was, she instead found a small boy, perhaps around 6 or 7, blankly staring at her. Likewise this wasn't super bizarre, children are wont to stare at things and people for no reason sometimes, but there was something about this boy that felt a little bit… off.

"Uh, hi," Bridgette said kindly, "I'm guessing this is yours."

The boy said nothing. He did not move around or indicate in any way that he was aware she spoke. He simply kept staring.

"Alright, maybe not," Bridgette said, "Do you speak English?"

Again, no response. Even kids who weren't necessarily fluent in English yet would've known she was saying something. She also wondered if he might've been deaf, but again he would've seen her lips move and registered that she was at least trying to communicate. So Bridgette concluded this was most likely just a child being weird for no reason and decided to cut her losses.

"Well, alright, I'm just gonna put this back down next to you." Which she did, but as soon as the ball hit the pavement Bridgette found herself airborne. She had no idea what pushed her or why, it felt almost more like she was tossed but no one ever grabbed her. All she remembered was flying through the air as her eyelids grew increasingly heavy, and then falling… falling…

* * *

 _ **Mississauga, Ontario**_

A man stood waiting in the kitchen. He wasn't wearing much, just a bathrobe with a small knapsack slung over his shoulder. And he looked impatient, like he was waiting for someone to do something for him, whatever that happened to be. He was a pretty good-looking dude, tall and muscular, but his face belied his concern.

To his left he saw a young woman, also wearing a bathrobe, enter the kitchen through the living room. At first he perked up, as if her presence had solved whatever he was waiting for, but his attitude soon reversed when it became clear she was not pleased to see him.

"Oh, you're still here?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said, "I thought we were gonna do breakfast."

The woman stroked her chin and looked upon him pityingly, "Look, I think you're confusing me with your ex-bitch. Its an understandable mistake, so let me clarify: the sun is up, so you need to get the fuck out of my apartment. Oh, and I'll need my bathrobe back too."

"Wait, seriously?" the guy said, "I'm just a pump and dump to you?"

"Yeah, pretty much," the woman replied, "Later Carl."

"Okay, _I know_ you know my name is DeSean," he said, "We went over this like three times last night- the fuck has gotten into you this morning?"

"Look, I did tell you last night I was no good, but did you listen? No, you wanted to tap that ass so badly you didn't even listen to my warnings. Now, here's what I want: I wanna see you hand me back my robe, and I wanna see your black ass walk out that door. Put your pants back on or not, I really don't care."

"Fucking Christ Courtney, you're an even bigger bitch then my ex."

"Yeah well, I'm sure," Courtney said, "If its any consolation, your dick is bigger then my ex's, though you apparently catch feelings even easier."

DeSean eventually walked out the door, though not without cussing at Courtney pretty much the entire way. She didn't mind though, or at least she wanted not to mind. She kinda liked the guy, honestly, and as she suggested he was a pretty good lay. But she absolutely just did not want a relationship right now, and if that meant DeSean hated her forever then so be it. Better him hate her now then hate her after six months of extremely uncomfortable dates, right?

Thing is, Courtney wasn't lying earlier, she wasn't good for people and she knew it. Her main priority these days, at least as far as her social life went, was getting a dick inside her, the person the dick was attached to be damned. Now this wouldn't really be an issue if she was just up front about that, but DeSean wasn't the first guy she led on, accidentally or otherwise, and he almost certainly wouldn't be the last. She sorta liked it when they got attached, when they felt like it meant more to them then it did to her. She never wanted to intentionally kill anyone's self-esteem, but yeah, thinking about it maybe her fun wasn't the most ethical.

 _Oh well,_ Courtney thought, _personally I blame Duncan for this._ She was just a sweet innocent girl once upon a time, or at least that's how it felt in hindsight. Then along came that fucking TV show, and with it came Duncan, who awakened things in her she had never felt before, and then promptly broke her heart. Or maybe she broke is… it was a long time ago; the point is that it didn't work out and it was really awful and now Courtney is a ruthless man-eater because of it. Okay, that's not completely fair, she knew she would have to take at least some responsibility for her own actions. But she maintained that had she never met that guy, she'd probably have a very different and much healthier relationship with men. Alas.

Before Courtney could continue down this train of thought, however, she heard her ring tone go off. She looked at her display name and saw that it was apparently Jared, one of her coworkers. Why he'd be calling at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday was a mystery, albeit one that Courtney was about to find out.

"Hey," Courtney said, "What's up."

"Boss wants you in this morning," Jared said.

"What!?" Courtney exclaimed, "But its Saturday."

"I'm well aware," Jared said, "Apparently we're training a bunch of new interns today, and there aren't that many people qualified to actually do that."

Courtney sighed, "Why did nobody tell me this beforehand?"

"Boss was probably busy," Jared said.

"Too busy to tell his employees he needs them until the morning of, I guess," Courtney said.

"Hey, cut him some slack, he's a hardworking man," Jared said.

"Sure Jared. What time does he want me in for?"

"The sooner the better, is what he said."

Courtney sighed dramatically, "Alright Jared, I'll help your daddy out with his little intern problem."

"Okay, do you mean daddy in the parental way or daddy in the sex way because in either case-"

"Yes," Courtney said, "See ya soon, Jared."

Courtney hung up her phone, grabbed her keys and was ready to roll before having a startling realization, namely that she wasn't actually wearing any clothes and she didn't think anyone would be too pleased if she showed up to work in a bathrobe. Well, maybe the weird perverts in accounting on Level 5, but they don't count.

Okay, leaving the house, take 2: Courtney, now fully clothed, grabbed her phone and her keys and found her way out of the condo to her car parked in the basement. Lot A, Spot 56, just how she liked it, anything else would be obscene of course. After waiting a few moments to deal with an irritatingly slow family of ducks, Courtney finally revved up her engine on her new Nissan and then all of a sudden she felt unbelievably drowsy. She imagined this was probably because of the late night she has yesterday, thanks to Jared for making her hungover ass go to work unexpectedly, but it was kinda weird for it to hit her all of a sudden like this. Well, all she could really do at this point was power through it and hope it works for the best, which is exactly what she did. Lord help us all.

Courtney wasn't that worried. It wasn't that far from her condo to the BMO office she worked at. All she had to do was manage to keep her composure for, like, 12 or 85 more minutes, or something, then she could grab a coffee and deal with the repercussions of too much coffee later. As of right now, those repercussions were usually 'getting judged by goddamn weirdos.'

 _Okay, come on Courtney, you can do this,_ she told herself.

 _But what if you can't? What if you fall asleep at the wheel and crash?_

 _You can't do that. You won't let yourself do that. You need this job, and you need this promotion._

 _Wait, why do we think there's a promotion at the end of this? Bosses do randomly dickish things all the time, that doesn't mean there's going to be an award for it larger then not getting canned._

"Okay stop," Courtney told the voices in her head, "I need to concentrate on the- I need- concentrate-"

…

 _Wake up!_

Courtney awoke with a start. A frazzled, panicked start in which Courtney was driving, behind the wheel of her car, and she suddenly realized she'd been out for god knows how long. Okay… okay, she was still in her car, nothing was broken or damaged, the cops weren't coming after her, and it even looked like she was still heading in the right direction. Wonderful, somehow she dozed off for a minute or nine and ended up in an even better spot then she started out in. Now, the downside of course was that she was still incredibly exhausted, and she was beginning to feel kinda light-headed too. That certainly wasn't good, maybe it was time to pull over and grab a coffee now, at least if there was a Tim Horton's or a Starbucks nearby. Which of course there was, this was Greater Toronto, there was practically one of those things on every block, right? Didn't look like it at the moment though, she was still in a condo corridor. But if there were condos around here then that probably meant… Courtney lost her train of thought as the wooziness began to increase. Okay, at this point there was definitely something wrong and she'd almost certainly have to pull over but last thing she recalled she was still driving… driving…

* * *

 _ **Los Angeles, California**_

"Lindsay, we need to talk."

"Okay, can we talk about how good your mascara looks today?" Lindsay countered, "Because, like, wow is that a shade that suits you, Michelle."

"Thank you, I actually wasn't sure about this colour but I've gotten a lot of compliments about it," Michelle replied, "But unfortunately, we have to talk about the sales for your new makeup line."

Lindsay looked dejected already, "They're bad, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they're not great. And I know this was a passion project for you, but-"

"I really thought this could be something," Lindsay said, "We even came up with a great name for it- Lindsay's Kisses. Playful and seductive, but not sleezy."

"It is a great name," Michelle said, "And the product is good, reviews from those who've actually bought it are generally on the positive side. The problem, well, the problem is-"

"No one remembers who I am anymore," Lindsay said bluntly.

"Now there, that's not true," Michelle said, "In fact, if anything your hits on Google Search engine and on your YouTube channel have actually been trending upwards over the past few months."

"Over the past few months, maybe," Lindsay said, "But, like, how many people didn't even know that Lindsay's Kisses were from Lindsay Houston. How many people thought they were from, like, Lindsay Lohan, or some other famous Lindsay."

"…quite a few," Michelle admitted, "Admittedly, it's a pretty common name."

Lindsay cupped her head in her hands and stared at the ground, "So, are they cancelling the line?"

"What? No, of course not," Michelle said, "I'd never let them fuck you over like that. We just need to figure out how to sell it better."

"Maybe I need to change my appearance," Lindsay said, "I mean I already got the new haircut." She said pointing to her short, messy hairdo dyed jet black.

"Yeah, I saw that," Michelle said, "You know, I wasn't sure if you could pull of short hair before, but I like it. I do have to say though, I think short hair plus your giant tits give you like unfathomable dyke powers."

"Well that's the plan, baby," Lindsay said, before coming onto a realization, "Wait a minute, maybe that's an angle we can work from."

Michelle began to think for a bit, "I think I got it! Maybe I could appear in your videos and your ads with you and we could market Lindsay's Kisses as a two for one package? I mean a makeup line by a queer woman is one thing, but by a lesbian couple? That's pretty new, and people will be interested."

"Yeah, but that means coming out to the public," Lindsay said, "And I'm really not sure I'm ready to do that yet."

"You don't think they already suspect it?" Michelle asked, "I mean we're always together for one thing."

"They don't know you," Lindsay said, "And they barely know me. What they remember most is The Show, where I was a ditzy blonde with a crush on a cute jock. Going from that to big tiddy punk lesbian… well it's kind of a conceptual leap, y'know?"

Lindsay then began chuckling to herself, prompting Michelle to inquire what was up.

"You remember Gwen from The Show, right? The goth chick?"

"Yeah, why?" Michelle asked.

"Well she's like an underground R&B legend now, and I'm following her on Instagram and she dyed her hair blonde and is wearing like skimpy dresses and whatnot. I should hit her up and tell her I'm more goth then she is now."

"How do you think she'd react?"

"I think she'd laugh," Lindsay said, "I remember Gwen having a sense of humour. Though maybe I'm confusing her with Courtney."

"Somehow I don't think you are," Michelle said, "Anyway, so that's our pitch? Two lesbians selling makeup together?

Lindsay sighed, once again prompting Michelle to probe.

"I just don't want it to feel cynical though," Lindsay said, "Lindsay's Kisses come from the heart and- you know, on second thought, saying it out loud like that, maybe its not such a great name?"

"No, no, its fine, trust me its wonderful," Michelle said.

"Alright, I trust you," Lindsay replied, "But anyways, if this is going to be a project about queer women, then it needs to really be about queer women. We can't just use queerness to sell our shit, we have to, like, give back to the LGBT community, right? That's what I mean about it not feeling cynical."

"Right, of course," Michelle said, "Sorry, I guess I've been an ad executive for too long, I think I don't really think of things from a human perspective the way you do. You're the artist, and I'm just the saleswoman."

"But that's why we work well together, because we have two different perspectives," Lindsay said, "Hell, that's why we're with each other, right?"

"Well yeah," Michelle said, "That, and because I could play with those fucking titties like all night."

Lindsay blushed and said nothing.

"So what do you mean by 'give back to the LGBT community'?" Michelle asked.

"I don't know," Lindsay said, "Like, show support to those who blazed the trail? Maybe read up on, like, the Steelwall Riots, show folks I've done my homework."

"Steelwall?" Michelle asked.

"Yeah," Lindsay said, "Is- is that not what they were called?"

"Are you referring to the Stonewall Riots?"

"Argh," Lindsay said frustratedly, "Okay, I'm way out of my depth here. What the fuck was I even thinking about, Michelle. I'm not an activist, I'm just a reality show has-been."

A few tears began to roll out of Lindsay's eyes, and upon noticing this Michelle rose up out of her chair, grabbed her younger partner and held her in as tight an embrace as she could.

"I'm sorry I'm such a blubbering mess today," Lindsay said.

"No, I understand, its been a tough couple of weeks," Michelle replied, "But you're tough as nails, and you'll get through this."

"Don't you mean we'll get through this?" Lindsay teased, to which Michelle responded with an eye-roll and a laugh-snort.

"There are a lot of details to hash out," Michelle added, "But in the meantime, would you like to take a 40-to-90-minute break? Sometimes in life I find I need to take some time off and, uh, let myself go to get the creative juices flowing."

"Just the creative juices?" Lindsay asked slyly.

"Well no, not just those," Michelle replied, "In fact, if you're feeling up to it I have a few-"

At that moment the door to the boardroom swung open and in popped a… maid? At least, she was dressed like a maid, but neither woman had ever seen her before nor did they hire anyone to clean anything.

"The sponsors would like to speak to you, Ms. Houston," the maid said.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude but would you mind telling me…"

"My name is Eileen," the maid said, "But that's not really important. The important part is that the sponsors of Lindsay's Kisses are holding a meeting downstairs and they require your presence, Ms. Houston. And _exclusively_ Ms. Houston, if that's not too much trouble."

Lindsay looked toward her girlfriend for guidance, who smiled back at her, "Just go ahead. You know where to find me when you get back."

"Of course," Lindsay said, and reluctantly followed Eileen out of the boardroom and down the stairs. In a way, Lindsay felt relieved she had a guide to take her to the correct room, as she often got disoriented by the building's interior design. That tends to happen with indistinguishable masses of stainless steel though, they try so hard to be hip and modern that they end up just kinda looking goofy and confusing patrons, or at least that's how Lindsay saw it. Perhaps that was just an imprint from her Kitchener roots though, and had she grown up in Toronto or Los Angeles where people actually live inside these New Age monstrosities she might be better equipped to-

"Uh, Ms. Houston? It's actually the next room over."

Lindsay peered over her shoulder to realize she'd wandered haplessly into the wrong room. Again.

"Oh… right. Sorry," Lindsay said, awkwardly making her way into the dimly lit room where Eileen currently stood.

"So, who exactly wants to speak to me, and would you happen to know why?" Lindsay continued.

"Unfortunately I wasn't privy to that information," Eileen said, "I'm just a worker bee, of course. I was simply asked to make sure you wait in here until the rest of the party arrives."

And with that Eileen left, shutting the door behind her and leaving Lindsay alone to contemplate her thoughts. The whole thing was very strange and short notice, wasn't it? Like, was it normal for shareholders to suddenly show up like that and whisk her away from her bae? No, it couldn't be, right? But maybe it was, after all what did Lindsay know about marketing? Perhaps there was an urgent new development that they just had to talk to her about; yeah, that seemed the most likely case. Well, whatever it was, she hoped that didn't mean her beauty line was in jeopardy, she'd worked so hard and jumped through so many hoops, and to just have it vanish like that… well she tried not to think of it.

Actually, Lindsay was trying not to think of anything at all. Maybe it was just the confusion or maybe it was about being alone in a dark room, but she began to feel strangely light-headed and out of sorts. This was pretty atypical for Lindsay, but she responded by sitting down and hoping that would take care of things; it didn't. Perhaps she just needed some water; she looked around and there wasn't any. Or maybe it was there but her vision doubled so severely that she could barely see anything at all. She also began to notice a strange light fog in the corners, or at least that was the way it felt through her blurred vision. Last thing she remembered was running for the door, with the space between the centre desk and the exit seeming to stretch on for a light year and then everything faded to black.

* * *

 _ **Scarborough, Ontario**_

"Heather!"

She heard her name called by her manager. She chose to ignore it.

"Heather, where are you?"

Once again, Heather did not respond. She really just wasn't in the mood for this shit today.

"Heather Anno, I need to talk to you this instance!"

Ugh. Okay, he very clearly wasn't going away, looks like she'd have to deal with this shit after all.

"I'm in the back," Heather called out "Also, please don't shout my full name at me when your mad, you sound like my mother."

"Why are you in the back," her manager shouted as he stormed into the lunchroom, "You literally just got off break an hour ago?"

"Because there's no one here," Heather said, "It's midnight, nobody wants a fucking tuna sub at midnight, Stuart."

"You don't know that," Stuart replied, "There's plenty of clubbers out tonight, it is Saturday after all."

"That's what Taco Bell is for," Heather said without skipping a beat.

Stuart sighed heavily, "Okay fine, but why aren't you cleaning up then?"

"Already did, I finished mopping about half an hour ago," Heather said, glancingly longingly at her phone sitting on the table.

"Then why aren't you doing inventory?" Stuart said.

"Quinn did that before she left," Heather said, "I promise you, everything is taken care of. You can go home now."

"Quinn's shift ended at 10," Stuart said, "We've had several customers since then, and I'd like you to please re-do it. There's always something you can be doing instead of sitting on your phone wasting time."

"Sure, but what if I'd rather be sitting on my phone wasting time," Heather posited.

"Well I'm glad, Heather," Stuart said, "But you're not being paid to do that."

"And you're not being paid to be ugly, yet you still manage to find time to do that," Heather replied.

This wasn't the first time she'd mocked Stuart's looks to his face, and just about every time she did that it made him extremely mad. And looking into his eyes, today was clearly no exception.

"You know I could fire you right now," Stuart fumed, "And absolutely no one here will miss you."

"Perhaps, but then you'd have to find someone else willing to spend Saturday nights inside a sandwich shop," Heather replied, "Besides, I'm going back to Ryerson in September anyhow, so you only have to deal with a few more months of me. I'm sure your fragile ego will manage."

Tired of talking to her boss, Heather picked up her phone and began scrolling through her Twitter feed.

"Heather, I'm not leaving until you start inventory," Stuart said.

Alright, now that was a threat with consequences too grave for her to handle. Unfortunately, the sad reality of the modern workplace is that the boss will always find a way to win, or at least force you to be miserable along with them.

"Alright, I'll get to it right away," Heather said.

"Thank you. And please leave the report on my desk when you're done, and of course hand your key over to Michael when he starts his shift at 6."

"Yes, mom," Heather said.

"Given what a lovely, _exotic_ creature your mother is, I'll take that as a complement," Stuart said slyly, and Heather visibly shuddered.

"Anyways, I must be heading out now," Stuart finally said, beginning to march toward the door before briefly turning around, "Oh yes, and Heather? One more thing."

"What's up," she said, trying not to sound annoyed.

"Please don't let anyone see you on your phone, it's really embarrassing for me."

"Don't worry, as I said no one's coming," Heather said.

Stuart took a couple more paces towards the door before stopping again.

"Oh, and please don't bring a bunch of your friends in here to hang out. This is Subway, not a bar."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Heather replied quickly.

"You sure about that? Because I've heard reports from people that you definitely have dreamed about it. And by that, I mean you've done it in real life."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Heather said again, "Anyway bye Stu, say hi to the wifey- ooh, right. Uh… say hi to your cat for me?"

"I swear to god if you ever use me as a reference I will…" the rest of his sentence was lost to Heather as he slumped out the door and shuffled away. Thank heavens, he was finally gone.

' _Okay, who the fuck snitched on me?'_ Heather thought, _'probably Michael, that little bitch. I hate Michael so much.'_

Before she could think or do anything else, her phone started ringing. That wasn't all that bizarre, but what did interest her was who Caller ID was telling her it was. After all, this was a boy she hadn't spoken to in almost 5 years.

"Hello?" She asked, "Trent Johnston, is that you?"

"Yeah," he said through ragged breath, "Am I speaking to Heather Anno right now?"

"Yup, that's me," Heather said, "Any particular reason for the call, because if you're just calling to catch up I'm kinda at work right now so its maybe not the best time."

"Actually, there's- there's something I need to tell you."

"What, that you always had a crush on me?" Heather teased, "I'm flattered Trent, I always thought you were cute too but it's a little late for that."

"Heather, this is serious," Trent said, "Gwen's missing."

Heather was taken aback, "Like, Gwen from Total Drama Island? _Our Gwen?"_

"Yes, our Gwen," Trent said.

"Okay, I had absolutely nothing to do with it," Heather said, "I know we had our differences but I'm not-"

"Oh God no, I'm not blaming you," Trent said, "I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Heather asked, "Look, I feel terrible about Gwen's disappearance but I'm not sure what it has to do with me."

"Well, I don't think she's the only one," Trent said, "I tried contacting Lindsay before you and I've been getting radio silence. And let's not forget this isn't the first time a former Total Drama star has mysteriously vanished."

"You think they all have something to do with each other?" Heather asked, anticipating his answer.

"I can't prove it, but it feels connected to me," Trent said, "I don't think anyone from that show is safe, including me or you."

Heather sighed and stared at the ceiling, "Where are you right now?" she asked.

"I'm at home in Hamilton," Trent said, "But Gwen's in LA, or at least she was. Douglas went with her and he's been freaking the fuck out for the past 8 hours."

Heather didn't know who Douglas was, but that wasn't really the point right now. She'd ask at a later date, once all this had been settled.

"I was just asking because, well I know it's a bit of a long drive to Scarborough, but if you wanna make the trek," Heather pondered, "You know, strength in numbers and all that."

"Thanks, but I think it'd be more dangerous for me to get in the car and drive for an hour," Trent laughed, "Maybe you could try contacting someone who lives in Toronto?"

"Eh, I don't think any of them would be happy to receive a call at midnight on a Saturday," Heather said, "Least of all from me."

"I didn't mean like an island, uh, contestant, I meant one of your real-life friends," Trent said.

"Well that's what I would've done, except I was explicitly forbidden from bringing any of my friends in here," Heather replied, "I mean it was literally the final thing my boss said to me before he left."

"One of those bosses, huh?" Trent said.

"Yeah, and the last time I went against him on this someone snitched on me," Heather said, "And I'm fairly sure I know who did it, you don't know the guy or anything but he's a complete dickweed."

"Is he the type of brown-noser who kisses the bosses ass in desperate hopes of moving up the corporate ladder?"

"Essentially," Heather said, "Which I just don't understand. He has to know that bosses see workers as interchangeable, right? Does he just not realize that? Does he think he can be the exception if he just rats out his would-be comrades enough times?"

"Yeah," Trent said, seemingly like he wasn't paying full attention.

Heather laughed a little and sighed, "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. We haven't spoken in years and even when we did speak our interactions weren't always… look I'm sorry I kissed you to get back at Gwen."

"Uh…" Trent said, "Honestly I'd kinda forgotten about that, but thanks for reminding me. No, Gwen and I are fine. I mean we're not dating or anything, but we've been bandmates and collaborators for a couple years now."

"Well, that's good to hear," Heather said, before hearing the bell that signalled a customer's arrival.

"Look, we got a customer now, so I gotta go. But it was nice talking to you again."

"Yeah, it was nice talking to you too," Trent said, "And just try to be safe, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Heather said before hanging up the phone dramatically. Or, at least as dramatically as possible when all you're doing is pressing a button.

Heather strolled to the front of the restaurant to find a tall, slim man in a suit waiting. He had a very neutral expression on his face, seeming like he either didn't know or didn't care exactly where he was. And I mean who could blame him, he was in a fucking Subway at 12:30 on Sunday morning, likely glazed out of his mind.

"Hello sir," Heather said, "Can I help you?"

The man said nothing, but his glare did seem to become more focused on Heather, as if he'd locked onto his target. Heather suddenly flashed back to Trent's description of Gwen's disappearance; was she about to be next? Heather could only hope this was a really weird drunk guy and not… whatever the hell kidnapped Gwen.

"Sir, is there something I can help you with? You're not going to be allowed to stay here unless you order something."

The man stood there for a few more seconds, while Heather remained at the perfect intersection of scared and irritated. Then he lunged forward, grabbed the young girl by her shirt collar and held her there. Heather tried to squirm out of his grip but she found herself unable to move as her limbs increasingly went limp and her brain increasingly went fuzzy. It was like jacuzzi jets had been pumped directly into her skull, leaving her unable to think or process or react to anything. She could simply stand there, first in paralyzed fear and later in dizziness as her head started spinning and she began falling apart.

* * *

 _ **Coda**_

"And that's all 5 of them?"

"That's all 5, yup, at least for the time being. For now, you're dismissed."

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is the plan for these girls?"

"I think that's rather obvious, Eileen. Now, we begin the training phase."


	2. II: Bianca

**Chapter II:** **Bianca**

Bridgette didn't think she'd ever be held captive by strangers, but if that were to occur she definitely didn't think the conditions would be this nice.

When she awoke earlier, she anticipated she'd either find herself back in her bed, learning that her bizarre abduction was just an unusually vivid dream, or she'd quickly discover she was being held prisoner for ransom and would be trapped in some dungeon without even basic amenities. Instead, the room she awoke to looked more like a luxury hotel suite, with a large bed in the middle draped with fancy, cumbersome sheets, several old wood dressers and enough floor space that she could probably put a treadmill in here and get a decent workout without even leaving the room. It was clear that whoever her captors were, they wanted her comfortable, pampered even, and she began to wonder what exactly they knew about her medical history.

Still, as nice (or at least non-threatening) as the scenery was, yeah, she was still abducted in the street and brought unconscious to an unfamiliar place against her will. And judging by what her phone was telling her, there was no Wi-Fi or cell service here, so she had no way of figuring out where she was, or contacting anyone for help, or even just letting her friends and family know she was okay. So being in a lavishly decorated room with a comfortable bed didn't really provide Bridgette with any relief after the initial wave of "oh thank god I'm not dead and/or being chained up and used as a sex doll by strange men."

The room had exactly one door, on the far side from where Bridgette and the bed were, and it was closed. She wasn't technically sure whether it was locked or not, but the odds of her captors just leaving a door open for her escape were pretty slim. Still though, it didn't make any sense not to try, unless spending the rest of her life here was suddenly a desired outcome. So Bridgette shuffled her way up to the door, moving quietly as if simply attempting to leave the room was a subversive act, and hesitantly pulled the handle. To her surprise, the handle moved all the way down without resistance, indicating the door was completely unlocked. Bridgette found this extremely relieving…

…for about half a second. Now that she knew leaving was a possibility, her mind began to taunt her with visions of what could be on the other side. Perhaps there was a gunman just waiting there with his finger on the trigger, licking his lips at the thought of finally getting to release? I mean, it didn't make any sense for Bridgette's captors to leave her unharmed only to kill her while trying to escape, but you know what else didn't make sense? The idea that they'd just let her walk out. But okay, perhaps a shotgun blast to the face was a bit excessive, maybe the door was merely bolted from the outside, or had a bunch of heavy objects leaning up against it, designed to give Bridgette a false hope of escape before cruel reality reared its head. Well, whatever the case was, she had no way of knowing until she tried, so with her hand still holding the handle down she pushed the door open. It swung ajar without resistance.

There were also no shotgun wielding lunatics standing outside waiting for her to leave either, mercifully. Instead, Bridgette found a curved, semicircular balcony with what looked like about fourteen doors on its exterior. The interior of the circle consisted of a railing followed by a steep drop, which opened itself up to a beautiful, omnichromatic garden underneath. The roof over Bridgette's head also stopped where the railing was, so sunlight illuminated the fantastic view below her. This was undoubtedly a luxury hotel, or barring that, a place created to mimic one.

Bridgette did notice one other person on the balcony, a blonde woman wearing combat boots and a billowy white blouse. She was facing away from Bridgette with her arms draped over the rail, presumably staring at the garden in front of her. As Bridgette began to approach, the woman turned around to greet her, and getting a clear look at her face she definitely seemed familiar. She couldn't pinpoint exactly where she'd seen her before, only that she almost certainly had, which brought with it the same kind of deeply unpleasant feeling you get when you realize you forgot a friend's birthday. By now, Bridgette was internally begging the woman to say something to ameliorate this gnawing sensation in her mind, or if nothing else to provide a goddamn distraction.

"It's a nice view they got here," the woman said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Bridgette replied, "Wherever here is."

The woman giggled a little. "You too?" she asked.

"Looks like it," Bridgette said, "I wonder what they want with me specifically. Or with any of us for that matter. You think we were specifically selected? Or was it a name drawn out of a hat situation."

"Well, if I had to take a shot in the dark, I'd say probably the former," the woman said hesitantly, "But I have no real reason to believe that. It just sounds more right to me, whatever that means."

The atmosphere went quiet and the two women simply looked at each other, both unusually tranquil for such a highly confusing scenario. Or perhaps they were just too mystified to start freaking out, but whatever the case was Bridgette felt comfortable around this girl. Of course she had no way of proving whether or not she was trustworthy, and she'd been stabbed in the back by seemingly principled people in the past. But I suppose you have to trust someone, ' _or at the very least trust someone enough to tell them your name, you inconsiderate prick,'_ Bridgette thought, silently cursing herself.

"Uh, my name's Bridgette, by the way," she said, quickly regaining her previously unaffected state.

The other woman's face lit up. "Bridgette Summers?" she asked, her words accentuated by a visibly palpable excitement.

"Yeah, that's me," Bridgette said, at this point more curious then anything.

By now, the other woman was absolutely beaming, "I knew I recognized you!" she said happily. "Bridgette it's me, Gwen. Gwen Charles."

"Wait, like Gwen from The Show?" Bridgette asked.

"Yeah, Gwen from The Show," Gwen said.

Bridgette said nothing. Instead, she grabbed hold of her fellow former TDI contestant and pulled her into a tight bear hug while letting out an audible squeal. And Gwen didn't resist, in fact she grabbed Bridgette even tighter then she was being held and rested her head on the other woman's shoulder.

"Jesus fucking Christ, where the hell have you been?" Bridgette asked.

"Dude, I don't even know how to begin to describe that," Gwen said.

"Well good, me neither," Bridgette said, finally breaking the hug, "But holy shit, this is like the weirdest, greatest reunion imaginable. Like how fucking long has it been anyway?"

"Uh…" Gwen paused, "I wanna say a year and a half? I think we were both at Beth's wedding, right?"

"Yeah, I remember that," Bridgette said, "And that's the only time we've seen each other since The Show ended?"

"I mean when you're separated by three provinces that unfortunately happens," Gwen said, "Not that I'm making excuses."

"Well hey, you know what, it's in the past," Bridgette said, "But we need to catch up, like, right now."

"Oh, undisputedly," Gwen said, "Let's grab a couple chairs & grab a couple drinks- I know the circumstances could've been less bizarre but hey, since when have bizarre circumstances ever stopped us, right?"

"Um…" Bridgette said, staring at the light in the garden," Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?"

"Ah, right," Gwen said, "Sorry, I'm a musician now so my thought process is like, 'well what's the barometer for early exactly.' But yeah, not everyone operates on my schedule and I need to remember that."

"Wait, you're a musician?" Bridgette asked, "That's pretty damn cool."

"Yeah, I even signed a contract and everything," Gwen said, "Or, more accurately, I was about to until, uh, this happened."

"Yikes," Bridgette said sympathetically, "Well, if they know you've been kidnapped they're not gonna rescind your contract, right?"

"I mean probably not," Gwen said, "But these are record companies we're talking about, so who the hell knows. I hope I have enough clout nowadays that that won't happen, but again I can't be sure, it's the music industry and things are fickle as fuck."

"Yeah, it's a tough job," Bridgette said nonchalantly, before her eyes suddenly widened, "Oh fuck, I was supposed to be there to open up today! Fuck my boss is gonna kill me; oh and poor Rupinder's gonna get there and she'll be all alone, aw I feel like such a fucking asshole."

Gwen put her hands on her friend's shoulders, "Bridgette, relax. There's nothing you can do about it at this point, right? Besides, we're in the same boat, so I'm sure once your boss knows what happened they'll get it."

Bridgette took a deep breath and sighed, "Yeah, I know. I'm honestly not that worried about getting fired or anything, I mean if you'll forgive my arrogance, Chipotle has explicitly begged me to stay like a bunch of times. Its just Rupinder I feel bad for, she probably got bum rushed by customers at noon, and its my fault. Well, no it isn't, but it feels like its my fault, y'know?"

Gwen sighed, sympathetic to her friend's plight but sadly unable to provide anymore reassuring words. "On the bright side, I think we've figured out the answer to that question you had earlier."

"Which one?" Bridgette asked.

"Whether we were specifically chosen to be kidnapped for a reason?" Gwen said, "There's no way they'd pick two Total Drama alum entirely by accident."

" _Three_ Total Drama alum," the girls heard someone shout from across the balcony. They pretty quickly traced the sound to the only other person standing nearby, an Asian woman with red streaks in her hair, wearing an oversized red sweater, comparatively tiny booty shorts, and giant, see-through sunglasses.

"Heather?" Gwen asked, with trace amounts of dread in her voice.

"Well, yeah," Heather said, "Who the hell else would it be?"

"Its, uh, its nice to see you again Heather," Gwen said uncomfortably.

"Aww, and just when I thought this impromptu vacation was going to be pleasant," Bridgette said quietly.

"Okay, _rude,_ " Heather said, picking up on Bridgette's comment, "Anyway, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and yes, they're definitely targeting us for a reason. Like, even before I saw you guys I was fairly certain what was going on."

Both Bridgette and Gwen looked at her apprehensively and said nothing, and Heather couldn't figure out why. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gwen spoke up.

"Are you gonna contact my label boss and tell him I implied he was an asshole?" Gwen asked, "Because I already called him stupid, so I doubt that'd have any real effect."

Heather looked confused, "Uh… no? I was just curious as to what you guys were talking about," she said.

"Oh. Cool." Gwen responded flatly.

The two stared awkwardly at each other for way too damn long again, with Heather looking entirely lost and Gwen appearing to be a barely contained bundle of raw nerves. Bridgette for her part seemed more nervous then either of them, clearly wanting to break the silence but also clearly terrified of saying anything for fear of making the situation worse. The silence did eventually break, of course, but this time it was Heather who broke it.

"Ohhh okay, I see what the problem here is," Heather said assuredly, "You guys have only met the old Heather, the conniving, win-at-all-costs bitch. I'm the new Heather, friend to the poor and downtrodden and, uh, part-time Subway employee. I think this situation calls for reintroductions."

Heather held out her right hand, expecting the other girls to shake it which they eventually did- Gwen first, followed by Bridgette- though neither looked very convinced.

"So what are we all talking about?" Heather asked.

"I don't know, just shooting the shit I guess," Gwen said, "Like, job shit mostly."

"Oh boy, job shit," Heather said, "So I was literally at work when I got kidnapped and I can imagine what my boss's face must've looked like when he found out I left the restaurant unattended." Heather laughed softly, and Gwen actually followed suit.

"I'm gonna be so beyond fired there isn't even a word to describe it," Heather continued, "I mean at least that means I won't have to deal with Michael anymore, but it's a small victory."

"You would think these assholes would at least wait until you were off work, right?" Gwen said.

"I know," Heather said, "And they were excessively violent about it too. Like there was this one Slenderman looking motherfucker who just grabbed me and shook me and after that… well it's a bit of a blur, but that part was terrifying."

"Really?" Gwen asked, "It wasn't anything like that with me, I was just lead into a room by some cleaning lady, then everything got absurdly hot and I just kinda… passed out, I think? My memories aren't very clear, admittedly."

"God this whole thing is weird," Heather said, "Where is this place? Why is there no cell service, and why can't I access the internet? Like I have data on my phone, no Wi-Fi shouldn't be an impediment for me, and yet it is. And on that matter, why did they let us keep our phones to begin with?"

"So it isn't just me," Gwen said, "I don't know whether to be glad I'm not losing my mind, or mad because of… well every-fucking-thing else. By the way, have you tried accessing Google Maps? It gives you no indication as to where you are, no blue dot, no nothing."

"I did, yeah," Heather said, "Whoever designed this place clearly doesn't want to be found, which means we probably won't be neither."

There was a brief pause, and Bridgette took this as an opportunity to say something she'd been ruminating on for some time now.

"Hey Heather, you said you came straight from work. Forgive me if this is kind of a weird question, but why aren't you wearing, like, Subway clothes?"

"I'm guessing she woke up to find a big suitcase full of her crap in her new room," Gwen piped in.

"Yeah, that was part of how I knew I was selected for a reason," Heather said, "No one goes through that much effort to make for their captive unless they want them there for something more then ransom."

"Weird," Bridgette said, "That didn't happen to me."

"Well that explains the uniform," Heather said," And the mustard stain."

"It's actually chipotle mayo," Bridgette said.

"Wow, that was so unbelievably not the point," Heather replied.

"Honestly Bridgette, I'd recommend checking again," Gwen said, "When I woke up my suitcase wasn't there either, and then someone cracked my door open and slid it through."

Bridgette perked up a bit, "Did you find out who it was?" she asked.

"Unfortunately no," Gwen said, "I chased after him, but when I looked outside my room there was no one there."

"Weird," Bridgette said, "But yeah, I'll take your advice."

Bridgette opened the door to her room, or at least what qualified as her room at this place, and what do you know; her suitcase was right there, stocked to the brim with clothes and a bunch of other crap that could come in handy like her laptop. Unsurprisingly there was no one around, and no indication of who, if anyone, actually brought it up here. She would've liked to be more surprised by this, but by this point so much surreal shit had happened that she was just happy to have some real clothes.

"Hey, I'm just gonna shower and change now, if that's alright with you Gwen," Bridgette called out.

Heather began to respond, "Wait a minute why are you-"

"Yeah no problem, don't worry about me I'll be fine," Gwen interjected.

Bridgette shut the door to Room 101 behind her, leaving the other two women by themselves. Heather promptly pulled out a silver cigarette case and offered one to Gwen.

"You roll your own cigarettes?" Gwen asked, grabbing the one furthest to the left.

"It's way cheaper then paying for a full pack," Heather replied matter-of-factly, before sparking up and handing the lighter over.

"Are you sure we're even allowed to smoke in here?" Gwen asked.

"No one's told me otherwise," Heather said.

"And it's not like being told otherwise has ever stopped you in the past," Gwen said.

"Exactly," Heather replied, "See, I feel like you and I are starting to get each other, y'know? And, uh, I guess while we're waiting here I'll use this time to say that I'm sorry for reading your diary on National TV."

"Okay, it's cool, not a big deal," Gwen said brusquely, while avoiding making eye contact with the other girl.

"Uh… alright," Heather said apprehensively, "Glad to know you're over it, I think."

* * *

Courtney sat near the fireplace and sulked. She was understandably miserable given the events that had taken place the previous day, but now she woke up to find herself in a strange room of a strange building accompanied by absolutely no one. Her phone also wasn't working properly, at least whenever she tried to connect to the internet. It was like exponential irritability, nothing was going her way, nothing was even going wrong in a way she could comprehend, and every new development just compounded the last one and made her feel even worse. Like, she was stuck on the balcony earlier for like twenty minutes just searching for stairs, and then when she finally found them behind door 114 they were a dusty, smelly mess. Then after finally leaving that debacle the main foyer was pleasant but utterly empty, devoid of both live and furniture outside of a wooden table, five uncomfortable plastic chairs and a fireplace. The fireplace was a bit pretty.

' _How the hell did you fall asleep while driving?'_ Courtney asked herself, _'You're such a fucking idiot Courtney, you need to take better care of yourself. Maybe if you'd moved in with your dad you wouldn't be in this situation. Yeah, but he was abusive as shit, I mean you were there when he held your mom's head in a toilet bowl. Oh, but like she's so much better, I mean you were also there when she pulled down your ex-boy's pants and started sucking his dick right in front of you. But then again-'_

"Stop!" Courtney said out loud, "Enough! Don't make me go down this rabbit hole again; maybe I'll put some music on."

Courtney began to run through her iTunes library, but couldn't decide on anything she wanted to listen to.

"Not really in the mood for metal, I feel like that would just make me angrier. What else do I got in here?" Courtney mumbled to herself, "Coldplay? No. John Legend? No. Taylor Swift? Fuck no; I need something calming right now, maybe if I just-"

Courtney's train of thought was quickly interrupted when she heard a series of female voices approaching. Courtney instinctively began flipping screens on her phone back and forth and looking like she was trying to look busy. Hey, it works when the boss comes around, maybe it would be enough to get these girls to leave her alone. Please.

"And that's why Michael is a huge fucking bitch and is by far and away the worst thing about work," Heather said.

"He sounds like he really sucks," Bridgette said, "Unfortunately, rats like that are fucking everywhere, I've had a few like that at work too. But you know what's even worse then a blatant rat?"

"Someone who seems cool, until it's advantageous for them to stab you in the back?" Heather asked, "Don't even get me started on those fuckers."

"Some people just have no integrity," Gwen butted in, "Oh, did I tell you guys about the gas station incident?"

"Probably not, unless it happened before The Island," Heather said.

"No it didn't," Gwen said, "Okay, so I worked at a gas station a couple years ago and-"

"Sorry Gwen, do you mind holding that thought just for a sec?" Bridgette said, "Courtney, how are things girl?"

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-_

"Hi," Courtney said without looking up from her phone.

"Uh, it's been a while, huh?" Bridgette said.

"Sure," Courtney said.

"Well, I'm glad to see you for one," Bridgette stammered, "Are you happy to see me?"

Courtney shrugged lightly and said nothing further. The other three women stood there staring at her, not entirely sure how to react. Though Heather did eventually manage to stumble her way into a response.

"Hey, you know she was trying to talk to you," Heather said.

"I'm aware," Courtney said, still without taking her eyes off her phone.

"Well you think you could, I don't know, reciprocate?"

"I'm busy."

"No the fuck you're not. You're just flipping back and forth between screens," Heather said, by now starting to get upset.

"Heather, relax," Bridgette intervened, "Look, let's give her some space."

The girls took three of the chairs that were conveniently already placed near the fireplace and moved them over to the other side of the room. This should've been the end of it, with Courtney being allowed to be plaintive in peace. But by this point her mood had shifted to spiteful and she just couldn't resist.

"Hey, Gwen," Courtney said, "That is you, right?"

"Yeah, it's me," Gwen said, "What do you want?"

"That's an interesting choice in hair colour," Courtney replied, "So I'm guessing you're a 35-year old housewife now?"

"That's rich coming from the 20-year-old baby boomer herself," Gwen said, "So what are you up to these days? Are you a bank teller? A youth consultant for the Conservative Party of Ontario?"

"Very funny Gwen," Courtney replied, "Well what's your job, professional boyfriend snatcher?"

"You're still on about that?" Gwen asked, by now standing over her chair and preparing for a fight.

"Of course not, I haven't thought about Dickie or whatever his name was in years," Courtney said, "But you're still a hoe, and I just don't want you to forget that."

"This is like World Tour all over again," Heather whispered to Bridgette, "And I don't know about you, but I don't wanna go back there."

"Didn't you win World Tour?" Bridgette asked.

"Yeah, and I have jack shit to show for it," Heather replied.

Bridgette didn't respond to Heather, instead putting a hand on an angry Gwen's shoulder.

"Gwen…" she said sympathetically.

"Yeah, I know, I'm being childish," the singer said as she sat back down and turned away from Courtney, "Something about her just gets to me, y'know?"

"She gets on everyone's nerves," Heather said, out loud like Courtney wasn't even in the room, "It's like her special talent, like how some people are welders or, I don't know, stamp collectors. Well, Courtney is an irritant."

"You know you can say that directly to my face, no?" Courtney said.

"I could, but then you'd start crying, and we can't have that now," Heather scoffed.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Courtney snapped back, "Would all of you shut the fuck up? Because no part of me wants to deal with your shit right now so unless you want me to knock you the fuck out I'd suggest-"

"Hello!" the four girls heard someone else cry out loudly. As expected by now, the voice sounded pretty familiar.

"Was that Lindsay?" Gwen asked.

"I'm not 100%, but it sounds like her," Bridgette replied.

"So are there, like, stairs anywhere, or am I just supposed to jump off the balcony?" Lindsay shouted again.

Bridgette cleared her throat, "Yeah, they're near Door 114!" she yelled.

"What!? Sorry I can't hear you, could you move a bit closer?" Lindsay replied.

"Excuse me for a moment, I'll be right back," Bridgette said, getting up to show Lindsay what she needed to do. Left alone for now, Gwen looked over at Courtney, who'd gone right back to staring at her phone, probably flipping screens back and forth again. Gwen wondered if she was going to start shit again, but it looked like she had no interest, at least for now. She then looked at Heather, who was nervously brushing her hair out of her face.

"So…" Gwen said.

"Yeah…" Heather said, "So, like…"

"Like what?" Gwen asked.

"I don't know," Heather sighed, "Oh, uh, you mentioned something about a gas station story."

"Um, the timing just isn't right anymore," Gwen said, "It'd feel weird to segue into the gas station story from… that."

"Right, of course," Heather said, before another long pause. Heather did eventually break the silence though.

"So… uh, weather, huh? It's, uh, nice I guess."

"This is probably the worst conversation I've ever had," Gwen said.

"Oh without a doubt," Heather said, looking down nervously.

Mercifully, Bridgette and Lindsay's voices grew gradually louder from here, and even better it seemed like they had plenty of things to talk about. Or at least Lindsay did.

"Can I just say, I really love what you've done with your hair," Lindsay said, "short hair looks good on you."

"Thank you," Bridgette said, "Honestly I wasn't sure about it at first, but my boyfriend really likes how I look with short hair."

"Well obviously you looked great with long hair too," Lindsay said, "But short hair intensifies your features. If I saw you on the street I'd be like 'woah, I definitely don't wanna fuck with this chick.' Well, assuming I didn't know you beforehand."

"Uh… thanks," Bridgette said, blushing, "That was a compliment, right?"

"Uh yeah, obviously," Lindsay laughed, before slightly shifting topics. "You should really post on Instagram more, I didn't even know you cut your hair until now."

"I probably should, but honestly I'm just too damn busy," Bridgette replied, "And when I'm not busy I don't think about it."

"No, no, I understand," Lindsay said, "Work takes priority. You need to feed your cats, that's important."

"Aw man, my cats," Bridgette reminisced, "Poor Tammy and Skullcrusher, they're not gonna get fed today."

Lindsay looked at her confusedly, and Bridgette knew exactly why.

"To be clear, my boyfriend got to name Skullcrusher," she clarified.

"Ah," Lindsay said, "Wait, couldn't your boyfriend feed them?"

"He barely knows how to feed himself," Bridgette grumbled.

"Straight boys, huh?" Lindsay rolled her eyes, and then noticed the rest of the girls sitting by the fireplace.

"Gwen," she said excitedly, "it's so good to see you again! Ooh, I'm so happy we're all here, I mean the circumstances that got us here kinda suck but still."

"Good to see you too, Lindsay," Gwen said.

"Oh c'mon Gwen, I know you can do better then that," Lindsay teased, "Give me a hug right now, you big dork."

Gwen rolled her eyes but obliged; and given the latent smile on her face she didn't seem really bothered by the request either. Lindsay wrapped her arms around Gwen, then pulled Bridgette in for a group hug. Gwen looked over her shoulder at the other two girls, unsure if Lindsay was excluding them on purpose or not, though she pretty quickly answered that query.

"Heather, Courtney, get your asses over here, it's group hug time," Lindsay said with a light-hearted tune in her voice. And while Heather did join the hug circle, Courtney ignored Lindsay's request and continued to sit in the corner without even responding to her.

"What's up with her?" Lindsay asked.

"It's a long story," Gwen said, "Things actually got pretty heated before you showed up."

"Oh," Lindsay said, "Well yay me for preventing a fight, I guess?"

"Alright, that's enough of this," Heather said, breaking the hug, "Sorry, not much of a group hug person.

"I can respect that," Lindsay said, taking a seat on the remaining chair next to Gwen, "I mean I love hugs for one, but my girlfriend gets squeamish about physical contact sometimes too."

"I'm not squeamish," Heather said insistently, "I just, y'know, have my limits."

"No you're right, squeamish wasn't exactly the right word," Lindsay said, "Uh… anyway, Gwen, how's the pop life treating you?"

"Fine, I guess?" Gwen said, "Honestly I'm not really comfortable being called a star, hell I don't even think its true."

"Hey, I saw that picture you posted on Instagram with Travis Scott," Lindsay said, "That counts as being a star in my book."

"That was pretty cool, yeah," Gwen said, "But I don't know, when I think of being a star, I think of, like, having a ton of money and living in a mansion in Calabasas or something."

"A lot of people bought your mixtape," Lindsay said.

"Downloaded," Gwen corrected, "I distributed it for free, so it's not really the same as actually having huge sales numbers."

"Technicalities," Lindsay scoffed.

"Y'know," Gwen said, "I think you're the only person here who's actually following me on IG, and actually kinda knows what I've been up to."

"Which is dumb, I feel like we should all be following each other," Lindsay said, "But we are all mutual Facebook friends, right?"

"Yeah, but no one actually goes on Facebook to check on their long-lost friends," Bridgette posited, "They go to learn about what latest catastrophe we're gonna be talking about for the next 24 hours."

"Or more accurately, 'oh god what did Trump do this time'," Heather added.

"Yeah, no really," Lindsay said, "Well, when we get out of here and our phones start working normally again we gotta make sure we're all following Gwen. And, uh, if y'all could follow me too that'd be great."

"What do you post?" Gwen asked.

"Well a lot of stuff, but lately I've been focused on my makeup line," Lindsay said, "I don't want to talk about it too much 'cuz I don't want to see like I'm advertising at y'all, but it's called Lindsay's Kisses and to be honest its not doing so hot, so any support I can get would help."

Gwen nodded, before asking Lindsay a related question. "So, have you been keeping up with everyone?" she asked, referring to all the former Total Drama contestants.

"The best I can," Lindsay said, "On Insta I'm following everyone except Cody, Harold, and I think one other person who don't have accounts, or at least not ones I can find. Also Al who set all his shit to private."

"Why'd he do that?" Heather asked.

"Fuck if I know," Lindsay said, "I mean you'd think if he told anyone it'd be you."

"Yeah, I doubt that," Heather said, "I don't think he ever actually liked me, he just liked that I had long legs."

"Hey, speaking of Alejandro," Bridgette said, "Why haven't we seen anyone else? Why is it just the five of us?"

"Maybe the person who kidnapped us is a huge perv who only wants the prettiest girls around?" Lindsay asked.

"Uh, doesn't that sound a little narcissistic?" Bridgette asked.

"Bridgette shut up, you're gorgeous," Lindsay said, "All of you are. Actually I have a bit of a confession, I'm honestly kinda jealous of just how hot you've all gotten. Not that you weren't hot when we first met, but, like, wow."

"Aw, I feel like you'd say that about anyone though," Bridgette said, blushing.

"Well, there are a lot of sexy people in the world, no doubt. But I'm not lying just to make you feel good."

"Bridge, you need to get better at taking compliments," Gwen said, before turning to Lindsay, "Thanks, Lindsay, I love that you feel that way, and hell I could always use the confidence boost. And let me add that there's no reason for you to be jealous, you're a fucking bombshell yourself."

"Oh, you" Lindsay said, blushing much more substantially then Bridgette did a moment earlier, "Oh I almost forgot to ask, how's Douglas?"

"Douglas is doing great," Gwen said, "Or at least he was the last time I saw him. Now that I've been gone for a day he's probably not taking it too well."

"That's good to hear, well except the last part," Lindsay said, "Does he still do cam shows? I haven't seen a link pop up in a while but-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gwen said.

"Really?" Lindsay asked, "Cuz I thought-"

Lindsay stopped when she saw Gwen making the "stop talking" gesture by moving her hand across her neck. She looked over to see Bridgette and Heather talking quietly amongst themselves, while Courtney had her headphones in and still had her back turned to the rest of the group. Whatever Gwen was trying to hide, it thankfully didn't see like she'd blown her cover.

"It's really not something Douglas is comfortable with people talking about unless they know him personally," Gwen whispered, "How did you even find out about that?"

"You posted a link on FB a while back," Lindsay said, "I'm guessing that was an accident."

"Yeah, I think that was a 'horny on main' incident, if you know what I mean."

"Right, right," Lindsay said, "But besides that everything's fine with you guys?"

"Yeah, I mean we're still living in Hamilton together, and rent hasn't been an issue if that's what you're wondering," Gwen said, "You moved to LA, right?"

"Yeah, I did," Lindsay said, "Closing in on my one-year anniversary of being an Angeleno."

"What's living there like?" Gwen said, "I've pondered moving there if I ever become, like, an actual big deal, but I've heard some negative stories about it too."

"It's interesting," Lindsay said, "The weather's a lot nicer then Ontario, for one, and there's celebrities all over the place so seeing one isn't weird. On the other hand, everything's more expensive and the people there are kinda shitty. Though I did meet Michelle there, so not all the people I guess."

"That's your girlfriend?" Gwen asked

"Yeah," Lindsay said, "She's really cool, I hope you get to meet her sometime."

Gwen thought for a moment, taking time to figure out how to phrase her next question. "So, uh, forgive me if I'm crossing a boundary here, but are you bisexual or…?"

"I'm a lesbian," Lindsay said, "Not bi or pan, just a full-on dyke. I know I dated men in the past, but it's not what I'm interested in, or at least not anymore."

"Sounds like you say that a lot," Gwen said, smiling.

"I get asked that a lot," Lindsay said, "And don't worry I'm not mad at you or nothing, I just want to put that statement out there so there's no confusion."

"I get that," Gwen said, "See I get the opposite. I'm bi, but because I'm dating Douglas people wanna assume I'm a straight chick that occasionally kisses women for male attention or whatever."

"Oh, gross," Lindsay said, "Honestly I hate bi erasure. Like, who the fuck told straight people they have a right to determine who's 'truly bi' or not?"

"Sad thing is it's not just straight people," Gwen said, "I get almost the same comments from some gay and lesbian people."

"Fuck, really?" Lindsay asked.

"Yeah, really," Gwen said, "Honestly I'm surprised you hadn't heard of this before."

"I have, but I just assumed it was a few isolated cases," Lindsay said, "Guess I didn't realize how many gatekeeping dipshits there were in the world."

"Ahem!"

Gwen and Lindsay turned around to see Heather and Bridgette staring at them, looking annoyed.

"Earth to Gwen, we've been trying to get your attention for like 5 minutes now," Heather said, "Look, as much as I'm enjoying all the pleasantries and reminiscing, we should probably start looking for a way out of here again."

"Aww, but I was having so much fun," Lindsay sighed, "But yeah, you're right."

"Lindsay I think we should bring you up to speed first," Bridgette said, "As far as we can tell, this building is a giant circle with no exit."

"Wait, is the garden not an exit?" Lindsay asked.

"Pretty sure that's in the interior of the building," Gwen said, "Though at this point my sense of direction is so fucked up it might not be, who the hell even knows?"

"That bad?" Lindsay asked, "How long have you guys been searching for?"

"Like 45 minutes," Bridgette said, "Then we found Courtney in here and kinda got side-tracked. But it's time we get back to it."

"Actually, I'm gonna need you guys to stay in here a little longer."

The girls glanced Courtney, who simply shrugged as if to say: _'I didn't say nothing.'_ Instead, the voice was coming from behind them, where two women were standing in the hallway, observing the group for god knows how long. Worse still, the shorter woman on the right was instantly recognizable two at least two of the members of the team.

"Eileen," Gwen and Lindsay said simultaneously, before looking at each other, "Wait, huh? How do you-? What the fuck is going on?"

"So, I feel like you guys are owed an explanation," said the platinum blonde woman who wasn't Eileen.

"Considering you kidnapped us and dragged us here while we were unconscious, yeah, an explanation would be the bare fucking minimum right about now," Gwen snarled.

"Yes, and I promise we're getting to that," the woman said, "But not right now. It's not the right environment."

"Right… environment?" Heather asked.

"Well, the fireplace is quite nice, but your chairs are uncomfortable, and they're aligned rather then circular, which is the optimal shape for healthy communication. Truth be told, I put this set-up together so you girls would have a chance to reconnect and talk things out for a bit, perhaps establish a bit of a rapport before I showed up and inevitably altered the dynamic. But now that you're all here and you've all gotten settled in… well let's just say it's time for dinner."

Without warning, the girls were now sitting around a large mahogany table, adorned with a red and purple tablecloth and surrounded by kingly yet oddly comfortable chairs. Courtney was seated at one head of the table, directly across from the blonde woman, while Gwen and Heather were seated to Courtney's left and Lindsay, Bridgette, and Eileen on her right. Every woman had an empty plate in front of them, along with a host of other silverware, and the formerly neutral air was now filled with the aromas of various foods.

"Neat, huh?" the woman said, while everyone else (save Eileen) looked at her with a mix of bewilderment and apprehension.

"Okay, so the environment is right now," Heather said, "Now you wanna start explaining things?"

"Patience, Heather. I figured it would be more suitable to having this conversation over a lovely meal, I imagine all of you are quite hungry."

"Actually now that you mention it…" Lindsay started to say, before being interrupted by Heather.

"How do we know this isn't some trick?" Heather asked, "You might be putting drugs in the food to make us more compliant."

"Oh I assure you we aren't," the woman replied, "But you can opt to starve if you feel so inclined."

A menu suddenly appeared in front of each of the girls, to their continued confusion.

"Now, allow me to get a few frequently asked questions out of the way," the blonde woman continued, "Firstly, and this is for Bridgette and Heather, yes we do have vegetarian options."

"Wait, you're veggie now?" Bridgette asked, "Since when?"

"Since, like, six months ago," Heather said, "It's kind of a long and intensely boring story. The bigger question is why they've been monitoring my dietary habits."

"Secondly," the woman stressed, "Secondly, don't worry, all food will be provided on the house. As you've correctly surmised by this point, you're honoured guests. And thirdly…"

"Everyone's ears began to perk up, hoping the long pause meant she was finally going to reveal something concrete and relevant.

"Gwen, yes," she continued, "You were correct about the garden being the interior of the building. The true exterior, well again, you'll find that out after dinner. Now let's order."

"Wait," Gwen said, "You've brought us here without our consent, told us nothing about yourselves, and you expect us to just dine with you and discuss things over a glass of wine like it's a business meeting? Forgive me if I don't feel like cooperating, and I'm sure my friends here feel the same way."

"Well it's certainly good to hear that you consider these other ladies your friends," the lady responded.

Gwen looked apoplectic. "That isn't the point, lady. Did you actually hear a word I said?"

"Heard, and considered every word, yes," she replied, "I felt that was the part that was most worth highlighting."

Gwen shook her head. "Fuck this, I'm out of here," she said as she and Heather got up to leave the room. But no sooner did they get out of their chairs then the door separating the dining room from the rest of the building slammed shut, with an audible locking sound following.

"As I said, I need you hear a little longer," the woman continued, "Now you can choose to be an uncooperative toddler if you want, but you're not leaving."

After her extended, eerie silence, Eileen finally spoke. "Gwen, she wouldn't be going through all this trouble if there wasn't a very good reason. You're just going to have to learn to trust us."

Gwen and Heather sat back down, but didn't look placated in the slightest, with Heather in particular giving the lead woman dagger eyes. Lindsay conversely looked mostly confused and scared, and Courtney looked so bored and done with it all that Bridgette began to wonder if she hadn't been here before. And while Bridgette was no less scared or angry then any of her acquaintances, she figured this was as good a time as any to put what (admittedly limited) communication skills she had to the test.

"Look, I understand you have this whole thing planned out and you're trying to make everything run as efficiently as possible," Bridgette said, "But surely you can't reasonably expect us to go along with what you have planned when you've given no reason for us to listen to you. Hell, we don't even know your names."

The blonde woman glanced at Bridgette, then at Eileen, and then back at Bridgette. "Alright, I suppose introductions are in order," she said, before pointing to her associate.

"This, as two of you are already aware, is Eileen. She is your personal advocate and trainer, and she's the best friend you have in this place besides each other. Now I know you're going to ask me what you need a trainer for, and I promise you like so many other things you will get your answers in due time."

The woman briefly paused to survey the reaction of the room. No real change in expressions from before she introduced Eileen, though Courtney did seem to be a bit more attentive. That wasn't really surprising, she knew exactly what they were all waiting for.

"As for myself, well…" she continued, "well there's a lot of things you could say about me, but for now I'll leave you with this: my name is Bianca John. Welcome to my world."


	3. III: The Journey

**Chapter III:** **The Journey**

Heather had faced down demons before. She challenged a mean girl bully named Danielle in ninth grade and beat the fuck out of her. She'd probably drawn the ire of Chris McLean more then any other camper and lived to tell the tale. She outwitted possible real-life supervillain Alejandro Burromuerto and stole the prize money from under his nose. And admittedly, perhaps being something of a demon herself made it feel so natural for her to face these monsters and tear them down, after all why be scared of an external threat when those same impulses are boiling somewhere inside you.

And yet, as she walked through the long narrow hallway, Heather still felt nervous. Like throat-tighteningly, stomach-churningly nervous. Bianca had been so coy or mysterious about why the girls were here, what she wanted with them, how she was able to control objects in the building, or any of the thousand and one other questions Heather could conceivably ask that she was honestly not sure if she was even facing down a demon. She wasn't sure exactly what she was facing down at all, only that it was alien and probably nefarious in a really bizarre way. She, uh, she kinda wanted Chris McLean back right about now.

"So," Bianca said, "Here we are; at the moment of truth."

"Yeah, I guess we are," Heather replied, "Though I'm still not sure why you couldn't just explain everything up front while we were eating."

"And spoil our lovely chefs' hard work by introducing unpleasantries to the table? Yeah I don't think so," Bianca added.

"But you were the one who wanted the environment to be right," Heather questioned.

"And it was right. Right to introduce ourselves, right to explain my status as director and right to provide a detailed analysis of the buildings' geography," Bianca said, "So, Heather, how does it feel to be in Room 105?"

"Uh… it's fine I guess," Heather said, "Is there something special about Room 105? Does any of this matter?"

"It also gave you a chance to reacquaint with old pals," Bianca said, "And it got me thinking; 'who's gonna end up dating who?' I'm curious to see where this goes."

Heather rubbed her forehead uncomfortably. "You just reminded me of how much I hate being single, so… thanks for that."

"Because at this point I could see you with anyone," Bianca continued as if Heather hadn't said anything, "Except for maybe Bridgette, not sure you guys are compatible, plus I think she's straight. No matter, we'll get there when we get there. For now, we have contracts to sign."

Sitting to Bianca's right as per usual, Eileen gazed intensely at Heather. She looked sympathetic, perhaps even comforting to a degree, but her eyes still carried all the same signs of authority and power that Bianca displayed. Still, compared to her colder, slightly unhinged counterpart, Eileen at least looked like someone who could potentially be reasoned with.

"Firstly, Heather, we do actually owe you an apology," Bianca said, "When we asked Clifford to select you, we told him not to physically touch or grab you until after you were unconscious. Why he violated our instructions is unclear, but nonetheless he is currently being reprimanded."

Heather rubbed her eyes in confusion, "…select me?" she asked.

"Yes, select you," Bianca responded, "You, along with your friends here, have been selected to join XJA, our prestigious little organization we got here."

* * *

"XJA?" Courtney asked, "What the hell does that stand for?"

"Do you actually want to know, or are you just trying to make small talk because you're nervous?" Bianca asked.

"I… uh…" Courtney stammered.

"I mean it's fine to be nervous, I would be too if I was in your situation," Bianca continued, "But don't waste my time with stupid questions, we can't be having that."

Courtney sat in silence for a few moments, her brain rapidly cycling through what she thought might count as a non-stupid question.

"So… what do you guys do here, then?" she asked.

"Ah, that's better," Bianca said, "So you remember Chris McLean, right?"

Courtney sighed audibly. Of fucking course this all had something to do with that bastard.

"No matter how much I'd like to forget, I do."

"Well, we'd like you to help us look for him," Bianca said, "And the clues to his location are hidden in-"

"Okay, slow your roll there," Courtney said, "What does any of that have to do with us?"

"Well you knew him very well, yes?" Bianca asked.

"We were contestants on his reality TV show," Courtney said, "That doesn't mean we know anything about his personal life. Also he kinda put us through hell. Constant, life threatening hell."

"So you do know something about his personal life then," Bianca said.

"Excuse me?" Courtney asked.

"You can't live with a man for so long, even in an adversarial setting, and not have that tell you something about him," Bianca elaborated, "Besides, the specific kind of hell he put you through can give you insight into his character."

* * *

"I still don't see how any of this is our problem," Gwen said, "I literally didn't even know he was missing until you mentioned it right now. Isn't this, like, something the police should be dealing with?"

"Maybe, but fuck cops," Eileen chimed in.

"Well, not gonna dispute you there," Gwen said, "But that clarifies nothing."

"What Eileen is trying to say is that we're looking to keep the police off our trail," Bianca said, "Their presence will only complicate things."

"Okay…" Gwen paused, "Are- are you guys like human traffickers? Because if you are, kidnapping a bunch of semi-famous reality show contestants was a really stupid idea."

"Well maybe we are, in which case being a smartass is an even dumber choice."

"Well forgive me if I'm not exactly feeling obedient right now," Gwen said, "But I don't particularly care what you want from me, I'm not gonna listen to an organization that kidnapped me while I was unconscious."

"See, you say that now," Bianca said, showing visible irritation on her face for the first time, "Give me, like half an hour and you'll be grovelling on your knees begging for me to take you under my wing."

Gwen was unconvinced, "Kiss my pasty white ass, bitch."

Bianca sighed, "Oh, we'll get there eventually, but first things first…" she purred, "Clifford! Take Gwen to the hole, let her ruminate on things for a while. Any other questions?"

* * *

"So let's say, just for arguments sake, that I go along with all of this," Heather said, "What exactly would you have me do?"

"The clues to Chris's location are hidden in 12 silver balloons," Bianca said, "You simply have to retrieve the balloons, bring them back to HQ, and then go find Chris."

"…I'm guessing the balloons together make up some kind of map," Heather pondered, "Or, is it like some kind of code that together reveals the coordinates?"

"Yeah, more like the first one basically. But we're pretty sure we can handle that on our end. All you have to do is bring us the damn things."

"…and that's it?" Heather asked.

"Heather, if there was more to it, I would've included that in the explanation," Bianca retorted.

"But if it's so simple then why have the secret organization? Why have 5 of us, why not just go and do it yourself?"

"I don't know, why does Jeff Bezos hire truck drivers to deliver Amazon purchases?" Eileen said, "Why doesn't he just drive the trucks himself?"

That analogy kinda perplexed Heather. Bezos is the CEO of a billion-dollar multi-national corporation, what exactly does that have in common with what sounds like a sting operation by way of puzzle platformer to find a former reality show host? Unless, of course, Eileen was saying she's outsourcing the job to Heather because she and Bianca don't want to do it themselves. Oh… oh shit.

"…retrieving the balloons is going to be really hard, isn't it?" Heather sighed.

"And there's the other shoe," Bianca said, "But if the 5 of you work together as a unit, I'm sure you'll pass with flying colours."

* * *

"I'm not gonna lie, I think I'm warming up to this," Lindsay said, "I mean the whole kidnapping thing was pretty creepy, don't get me wrong. But I've been wanting to catch up with some old friends for a while now."

"It'll be like a vintage Total Drama Island adventure, only you're all on the same side," Bianca said.

"Exactly," Lindsay said, "I never really got to hang out with Bridgette much, but I feel like the two of us would have a lot more in common if we actually got to chat. Ooh, I wonder if she's still with Geoff? I hope so, they were my OTP."

"OTP?" Bianca asked.

"Like… my favourite couple. It's just a dumb internet slang term," Lindsay said.

"And what about Heather?" Bianca asked, "You and her cool now?"

"Obviously there's a lot of bad history there," Lindsay said, "But I believe people can grow and change, especially when they're in a different, healthier environment. And she seemed pretty cool at dinner, so yeah I think the two of us are gonna be good friends as well. And if not I can always cut her hair off again."

Bianca looked at her intriguingly, before Lindsay burst into laughter.

"I'm just kidding, of course. Well mostly anyway." Lindsay said, "Also Gwen's hot as the sun, but don't tell her I said that, alright? It'd be weird coming from you."

"You think you got a shot?" Bianca asked.

"Yeah, probably," Lindsay said, "It's not that hard to get a girl to like you, at least not for me."

"What if I told you she's in a committed relationship?" Bianca said.

"Not an issue, I'm willing to share," Lindsay said, "Though I do have to ask how the hell you know that?"

Bianca grinned, "You know something Lindsay? I always had the feeling that of all the girls I'd meet today, I'd like you the most. And sure enough I was right. The others are all kinda whiny or snarky or angry or… whatever the hell Bridgette is. But you, you're special."

"Aww thanks B," Lindsay said, "Though I do have to ask why Leshawna and Beth weren't included? I would've liked to see them again too."

"They have… other tasks. Don't worry, you'll cross paths with them soon enough," Bianca replied, "In the meantime, what do you say we get to signing that contract now? You alright with that?"

"Of course I am," Lindsay said happily, before changing expressions on a dime, "Provided you're paying me enough."

* * *

"Oh yes, the money question," Bianca said, "Give workers an inch and they feel like they're entitled to a living wage, huh?"

"Uh… I guess?" Courtney said, "I'm not exactly sure why that's bad?"

"Sorry, just a little bit of awkward class commentary there, didn't really come out like I intended it to," Bianca replied.

"Right…" Courtney said, "Anyway, I have a pretty damn good job at the bank, so unless you're planning on offering me professional athlete level money I don't see why I should leave them for you."

" _Pretty good?"_ Bianca questioned.

"Okay, pretty well-paying," Courtney said, "But still, I worked hard to get there."

"And there you shall remain, at least if you want," Bianca said, "Don't think of this as a replacement for your day job, just think of it as something extra, like a baked potato next to your rack of pork ribs."

"But I hate baked potatoes," Courtney said over Bianca's audible groan.

"More importantly," she continued, "How exactly are you gonna get me back and forth between Mississauga and… well, wherever we are now?"

"Simple," Bianca said, "Once you're done with the first mission, we'll send you back home until we need you again."

"Oh…" Courtney said, "It's that simple?"

"Courtney, if there was more to it, I would've…"

"-included it in the explanation, yeah yeah I get the point," Courtney said

"Courtney," Bianca said plaintively, "You don't have to be afraid of me. I have your back, even if it doesn't seem like it."

"I'm not afraid of you," Courtney said defiantly, "I'm just frustrated. Wouldn't you be too if you were roped into a situation you had nothing to do with by someone who refuses to tell you anything?"

"In my defense, I've told you exactly everything you've needed to hear," Bianca said, "Now of course the fact that I've kept secrets from you frustrates you, but we all keep secrets from each other, do we not? I'm sure there's things you wouldn't want to tell me."

"Yeah, but that's, like, personal shit," Courtney said, "There are some huge fucking holes in your story that prevent me from, y'know, thinking you have my back."

To Courtney's surprise, Bianca didn't look angry, nor did she carry that unnaturally calm and vaguely sinister expression that she often did throughout dinner. Instead she had a look of concern on her face, or at least apprehension. Something recognizably human, or at least as close to it as Bianca could get.

"I know you're an analytically minded person, Courtney," Bianca continued, "You want to get to the bottom of every mystery, to straighten out every little kink that doesn't quite align in your brain. But trust me, there are things you shouldn't know."

"You know that's the worst thing to tell me right now," Courtney said, "It just sounds like you don't trust me, like I'm some kind of pawn in your chess game."

"Oh no, you're misunderstanding me. It's not that I think you don't deserve to know the truth, or that you can't handle it," Bianca said, "It's that you literally don't have the necessary context. Think of it this way: have you ever read an H.P. Lovecraft novel?"

"No, but I know them by reputation," Courtney said, "Great example to use if you're trying to calm me down, by the way."

"Shut up and let her finish," Eileen said, "Bianca doesn't bring things up for no reason, she's not a mindless drone like some of your coworkers at BMO."

Courtney didn't respond to that, but she did at least appreciate Eileen taking that shot at her idiotic fellow employees. Of course she knew she was being played, but they weren't wrong.

Bianca continued. "My point was that there's a common theme in cosmic horror novels of a character only being able to see the monster once they have the context of knowing eldritch horrors are real and all that. They might be hanging around in broad daylight, but to the average person their brain will just block it out. That's kinda what we're dealing with here."

Courtney was confused. "How so?" she asked.

Bianca was beginning to look exasperated. "Well, I can't explain you that, because doing so requires the context that you don't have. For now, all that you need to know has already been explained, and the rest you will learn in time. I know that's not the reassurance you're looking for right now, but it's really the best I can give you."

Courtney looked dejected. She was arguing in circles now and getting absolutely nowhere with Bianca. She also noticed that Bianca had not only managed to shift the topic completely away from money but she'd done it so smoothly that Courtney didn't realize what she was doing until just now. It's as if she was a particularly venomous Road Runner up against her intellectual Wil E. Coyote, though she wasn't sure what exactly that would make Eileen in this case. There can't be two Road Runners, of course.

 _Okay, Courtney, you're getting off-topic,_ she thought to herself, _ask for a break, then try again in a bit._

"Can I take 15?" Courtney asked.

"Certainly," Bianca said, "Clifford will escort you to the hole where you can take a breather."

"E- escort?" Courtney asked.

"I know it doesn't sound the most appealing," Bianca said, "But we do at least have free cigarettes, if it'll help you calm your nerves."

Courtney stared at the floor, and loudly exhaled for a good ten seconds. Then she added another five on top of that for emphasis.

"Okay," she finally said, "If I sign now, will I still have to be escorted to 'the hole'?"

"Nope," Bianca said, covering her mouth with her hand while she spoke, "You'll be free for the night."

Though Bianca's hand was placed strategically over her mouth, a twinkled in her eyes revealed her mood pretty clearly. She was struggling to hide a massive shit-eating grin, _that bitch._

"Interesting…" Courtney mused, trying to play it cool like she wasn't angry as all fuck, "And it's $3500 per mission you said."

"Correct," Bianca said, "With free healthcare at HQ should you need it."

Courtney opted for another long, drawn-out sigh. She may have to admit defeat, but she was at least going to be a brat about it.

"Alright, fine," Courtney said, "I'm in, I'll play along with your stupid little game. Now where the hell do I sign already?"

* * *

"Thank you for being so cooperative," Bianca said, "Now if you could just sign at the bottom-"

"Woah; hang on a sec," Heather said, "I didn't say I was ready to sign. I said I understand what you're doing here."

"You understand the importance of finding Chris?" Bianca asked.

"No, that will baffle me until the end of time. I mean the importance of separating us before starting negotiations."

"Oh, really?" Bianca said, "See now I'm intrigued. What do you think the _true_ reason is?"

"Because it's easier to hide information and lowball salaries when you're alone," Heather said self-assuredly, "If we were all together, we'd be able to verify what you're telling us, and we could make sure we're all being paid the same amount."

"Hmm… I honestly never considered that," Bianca said, a little _too_ earnestly for Heather's liking.

"Ya sure? Cuz it's the same strategy used by nearly every single business owner and…"

"Oh, I see what's going on here," Bianca smirked, "Well looks like someone's read Karl Marx's Wikipedia page."

"Uh, I'm actually more partial to Rosa Luxemburg, for one," Heather said, "And how well versed in Marxist philosophers are you, by the way?"

"Alright, take it easy Heather, it was just a joke," Bianca said.

Heather scoffed at her response. "So was I wrong, or are you just gonna try and change the subject?"

"I'm the one changing the subject now?" Bianca said, "Because last I checked you were the one going off on a tangent about collective bargaining."

"It's not a tangent, it's relevant to what we were talking about."

"I didn't say it was a non sequitur," Bianca said.

"You didn't have to, it was implied," Heather responded.

"I wasn't implying anything, you're just reading into things that aren't there."

"No I'm clearly- goddammit, you somehow did it again."

"Did what?"

"You changed topics," Heather said, "I don't know how you keep doing this and I don't know why I keep taking the bait."

"Hmm." Bianca started, "Well maybe you're just not as smart as you think you are."

"Wow, way to be a dick for no reason," Heather said.

"Well I thought it was funny," Bianca said, "So…"

"Actually," Eileen spoke up, "I agree with Heather. That was a step too far."

"Oh, so what, you're on her side now?" Bianca said playfully. And by playfully I mean the kind of teasing you do to a friend when you're trying to hide the fact that you're mad at them.

"No, no, no," Eileen protested, "I'm just saying you should be mature and apologize when you fuck up."

By this point Bianca was pretty clearly upset, "This sounds like insubordination."

"Look, do you want her to sign with you or not? You're not gonna get her on your team if you're just an asshole the whole time."

Heather smiled. She had a feeling she could trust Eileen. Okay perhaps trust was too strong of a word, she was still working for Bianca after all., but if she was willing to stand up to her, in front of Heather no less, then that had to mean something. She probably wasn't about to help her get home with compensatory pay but perhaps she could at least shine some light on Bianca's obviously hole filled story? And speaking of Bianca, she did not look happy, huffing clamorously as she shouted:

"Don't look at Eileen like she's gonna save you. Eyes back on me."

* * *

"I wasn't looking at anyone," Lindsay said innocently.

"Oh Lindsay, you don't have to lie to me," Bianca said playfully, "I saw you making googly eyes at Eileen like seducing her is gonna get you a raise."

"Alright, you got me," Lindsay said, "Maybe next time I'll try seducing you instead."

"Yeah… no," Bianca countered, "It's $3500 a mission, I can't give you more."

"I kinda need more though," Lindsay said.

"Oh right, your student loan debt. How could I have forgotten," Bianca snarked.

"Actually, I don't have any student loan debt," Lindsay said, "I don't like to bring that up cuz it feels like I'm bragging about having wealthy parents, but facts are facts."

"Also you only went to school for one year, if I'm not mistaken," Bianca said.

"Uh…" Lindsay stammered.

"I'm sorry, is there an issue?" Bianca grinned.

"Uh no, you're correct. I just… I'm just not sure how you possibly could've known that."

"Pretty sure where you go to school is a matter of public record," Bianca pointed out.

"Um… yes, I guess it is," Lindsay said, "But anyway yeah, the issue is my credit card debt. Running a beauty line is expensive, and to be honest my shit isn't exactly flying off the shelves right now."

"I see," Bianca said, "Well that definitely sucks, but it's not my problem so…"

Lindsay was disappointed. She knew she had no real reason to believe Bianca that she was her friend or that she was going to help her, but she couldn't help but get invested in the idea that she was. Sometimes wilful naivete can be a way to deal with commotion, other times it's just an innocent state that some people never grow out of… whatever the case, Lindsay now knew she was fucked.

"Well okay," Lindsay said unhappily, "If you're not willing to help me out, I could always just… not sign."

"Lindsay," Bianca said compassionately (or maybe faux-compassionately), "As your friend, I would strongly advise that you don't do that."

Lindsay sighed and clicked her pen a bunch of times. "Can you tell me what would happen if I did?"

"To be blunt, we would just keep you here until you change your mind or until the missions are over," Bianca said, "Like… all 12 missions. So yeah you could be here for a while."

"That's really unfair!" Lindsay shouted, rising up out of her seat.

"Lindsay, have you not been paying attention?" Bianca asked, "What about our conversation, or anything that's happened in the past day, would've indicated this negotiation would be fair?"

Lindsay slowly and ungracefully sat back down, her momentary anger having passed and turned to worry. She glanced over at her phone that she'd been holding under the table in her left hand; she still had no cell service. Bianca seemed to notice where her gaze was pointed.

"I don't really care if you're looking at your phone," Bianca said, "For what it's worth it's not gonna do you much good, unless you're just looking for the time I guess."

Bianca was right, of course. And with any chance of outside communication circumscribed, Lindsay had to return to Plan A.

"What do you think, Eileen?" she asked, "Do you think Bianca is being unfair, especially considering I've been honest about my kinda embarrassing debt issues?"

"What did I just say, Lindsay?" Bianca said, "You're not negotiating with Eileen, anything she says or does can be overridden by me."

"Then why is she even here?" Lindsay asked, "Uh… no offense though."

"For moral support," Bianca said, "She's here for basically for the same reason some busy on-the-go professionals carry around a stress ball."

"Um…" Lindsay said uncomfortably, eyes darting around to avoid looking at Bianca, "I feel like there are implications there that it's best if I avoid completely. But getting back to my point, Eileen-"

"Alright Lindsay, if you want my answer so bad, no, we can't pay you more then the default when you haven't done anything for us yet," Eileen interrupted, "Also admitting to having debt isn't that humiliating. It's 2018 fam, everyone has debt."

"Thank you Eileen," Bianca said, "Well Lindsay, I was honestly hoping things were gonna go a little better between us, but I'm not afraid to be a bitch if I have to."

"I will say this though," Eileen butted in, "That contract you sign is only valid for the first 3 missions. So if everything goes smoothly after those three, come talk to us again, and maybe we can sort things out."

"See, that's why she's the nice one," Lindsay said.

"Yes, but that's why I'm the one in charge," Bianca countered, "Now are you gonna sign? Because it seems to me you're out of alternative options."

Lindsay began clicking her pen again and thinking to herself. _$3500 isn't nothing, and it is guaranteed money after all. Plus if I do it three times that's over $10,000, I can't turn that down, can I?_

"And please stop clicking your pen," Bianca added, "It's annoying."

"Okay, I'll stop clicking, Jesus," Lindsay exclaimed, "Can you just give me the papers already so I can get out of here?"

"Fantastic!" Bianca said excitedly, before turning to her partner in crime, "Eileen, if you wanna take half an hour or so, feel free."

* * *

With Eileen exiting through the back door, that left just Bianca and Bridgette glancing miserably at each other and at the desk that separated them.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me," Bianca said.

"Yup," Bridgette said, quickly and without looking up at her.

"You know I can do this all day," Bianca said.

"As can I," Bridgette said, "You can keep me seated at this very table for the next six months for all I care. I won't let you send me on life-threatening missions."

"Yeah, you know of all the people here I never expected you'd be the cowardly one," Bianca said, "I figured if it was gonna be anyone it'd be Lindsay, but hey, I guess sometimes things even surprise me."

"It's not about me," Bridgette protested, "I don't really care if I die."

Quickly realizing the implications of what she said, Bridgette attempted to backtrack but Bianca shushed her. "No, please continue, I'm curious now. If it isn't about you, then what could possibly make you so paranoid about potential danger?"

Bridgette did nothing in response except twiddle her thumbs, so Bianca continued.

"Well, if you're not gonna say anything then I can't help you," Bianca said, before winking at Bridgette, "Perhaps I should ask junior in your womb there, maybe she'd be more willing to talk."

Bridgette's world stopped spinning at once. She simply looked up at Bianca, eyes wide and mouth ajar, and struggled for air like she'd just been shot in the lungs.

"How?" was all Bridgette managed to get out.

"How did I know? Bridgette, I'm disappointed that you think so little of me. You'd think I wouldn't do my homework on you?"

"Even my parents don't know I'm pregnant," Bridgette said, "Nobody knows except my boyfriend."

"And your workplace, right?"

Bridgette nodded slowly.

"Well there you go," Bianca said, "You can't keep secrets from me Bridgette, so there's no point in even trying."

"Okay, that's so fucking creepy," Bridgette said, "Do you even hear yourself talk? Do you know how sinister you sound 90% of the time?"

"Creepy and sinister is kinda the vibe I'm going for," Bianca joked.

"Yeah, which is great if you're the leader of a Halloween Hunt," Bridgette retorted, "But not so great if you're trying to convince a bunch of people to sign with you and join your cause."

"Well maybe I'm just testing you on your courage," Bianca snarked, "And as it stands right now, you're kinda failing."

Bridgette began to protest, "I already told you this isn't-"

"And what do you think Baby Bridgette would have to say about her mom being a coward," Bianca taunted, "She'll have to grow up knowing for the rest of her life that her mom was too much of a chicken shit to do a couple of measly missions."

"Actually, I'd argue that it's more courageous to stand up to you," Bridgette said, "Anyone can go along with what their so-called superiors want, right?"

"Or perhaps nowadays rebellion is actually the go-to response, and obsequiousness is actually rebellion," Bianca said snidely.

Bridgette was unamused, "Uh, no. No it isn't."

Seemingly realizing that this line of argumentation was a dead-end, Bianca shifted tactics on the fly.

"Alright, maybe there is something to be said for your obstinacy," Bianca said, "But at the end of the day what will it actually get you? While your friends are all going on missions and making money, you'll just be sitting in a cell somewhere sad and alone, secure in the knowledge that you stuck to your guns."

"And secure in the knowledge that I protected my unborn child," Bridgette said, "That's what all this is about, and I don't understand why you can't accommodate that? Just set me up at mission control or something like that, let me help the others from the sidelines."

"And wouldn't that be nice," Bianca said, "But unfortunately, we need all five of you."

"Why?" Bridgette asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Industry secrets, darling," Bianca said, "Trust me, by the end of your first mission, you'll know. You might not be able to explain it, but you'll know."

"Alright fine, let's say you're right and you need five people," Bridgette said, "But why do you need me specifically? Why not bring in, like, Sierra or Zoey? Or one of the dudes, I mean none of them can get pregnant, at least as far as I know, so you could sidestep this entire issue."

"We actually considered that, yes," Bianca said, "But we went with the quintet that we felt would give us the perfect balance of competition and cooperation. Your pregnancy did give us a pause, but not enough to stop us from going through with our original plan."

Bridgette leaned back in her chair and sighed, "You're really not gonna accept a compromise, are you? I either do everything you ask from me; and put the life of a three-month old fetus in imminent danger, or I become your prisoner."

"I wouldn't call it a prisoner exactly but-"

"Fucking can it, Bianca," Bridgette interrupted, "I've made up my mind. Take me to the cell or wherever you keep the malcontents, I'm done here."

Bianca paused again, seemingly unsure about what to do next. Indeed Bridgette had been an unexpectedly tough case to deal with, arguably even tougher then the brattier Gwen. But Bianca still had one big trick up her sleeve, something that she felt was enough to nudge Bridgette over the edge into going along with her plans. And speaking of Gwen, perhaps she could use the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone…

"Hey, Clifford!" Bianca shouted, "Could you bring Gwen back, I'd like to speak to her as well."

A few moments later the Slenderman-looking henchman arrived in the meeting room with Gwen in tow. The singer looked upset and frustrated to put it mildly, but to Bridgette's surprise, not particularly worse for wear.

"Gwen, Bridgette, I know you two are apprehensive right now, but before you make a decision you'll come to regret, there's something I want to show you."

Gwen was still seething though. "Just because you let me out doesn't mean…"

"It's okay Gwen, I forgive you," Bianca said condescendingly, "Follow me please."

Bianca exited around the back of the room, with the two girls following her as Clifford hovered behind the three of them. After taking a bit of a meandering route through the building, they ended up back at the holding cell where Gwen had stayed, much to her confusion.

"Why'd you ask me to leave if we were just coming back here?"

"Because we're obviously going past this point," Bianca said, before turning her attention to her other hostage, "Bridgette, this is your first time seeing the cells. What do you think?"

"I mean… it's just a jail, except empty. If anything it actually looks a little nicer then the ones I've seen."

"You mean the ones you've seen on TV," Bianca said.

Bridgette sighed audibly, "Can we just get to where you're taking us?"

Bianca continued down the corridor and through another door, where through the ambiance and spartan cleanliness the women began to hear a voice muttering in the background. They weren't quite sure what she was saying at first, but it definitely didn't sound good. As they began to approach her words became a bit clearer, and while they remained disembodied and detached from each other, they began to paint a bleak picture of what was occurring.

"So cold…" they could hear her mutter, "Don't… don't come…"

Gwen noticed something else: the voice was definitely familiar. And the closer she got, the more familiar it was. It took her a few seconds to pinpoint exactly where she'd heard it before, but once it clicked in her brain there was no denying it: that was Leshawna.

"Leshawna?" Gwen asked.

"Yes, that's her," Bianca said, "Though she might not recognize you anymore. It's been a while, after all."

Gwen ignored Bianca and immediately took off running in Leshawna's direction, so Bianca called out after her. "She's in Cell F-49, on your left-hand side. Though be careful, you don't want to startle her."

Gwen raced through the narrow corridor, passing both empty and full cells along the way until reaching F-49, and peering through the small metal bars she found Leshawna huddled up in the corner, hair covering nearly her entire face and wearing nothing but a single blanket to keep her warm. The room itself wasn't exceptionally cold, perhaps only around 15 Celsius, but when you've been held in a dungeon for fuck knows how long with only an old blanket for warmth, well it's not surprising that Leshawna would be shivering.

Upon seeing Gwen, Leshawna averted her gaze and drew even further into her corner. Gwen was also now noticing that Leshawna was much thinner then she'd been on the Island, though it was hard to tell exactly how much. Granted it'd been a couple years since she'd seen her and it's possible that she'd lost weight before Bianca kidnapped her, but combined with everything else she'd seen within the last few minutes… yeah no. No fucking way.

"Ah, and she scared her," Bianca turned to Bridgette and said, "Y'know I really hate it when you girls don't listen to me, this could've gone a lot smoother if you had."

"That's your only reaction to this?" Bridgette asked incredulously, "That's sick. You're fucking sick."

"Perhaps a little, but there's a method to my madness."

"What, are you going to free her in exchange for us signing our contracts?" Bridgette asked.

"Precisely," Bianca said, "Seems like a fair deal, right? And I certainly wouldn't bring you here just to gawk at the poor dear; I might be sick, but I'm not _that_ sick."

Bridgette was still shaking her head in despair, "This is so fucked up…" she kept mumbling to herself.

"Yeah, well, you can ruminate on how fucked up it is after you sign. In the meantime, there's a little conference room right across the hall…" Clifford opened a door on the right to reveal a small room with four wooden chairs, "And Clifford brought your contracts with us, thank you Clifford, so we can finally sit down and have the pleasant conclusion to our evening I'd been hoping for."

Bridgette meekly stammered in, followed closely by Clifford, while Bianca called out to relay the message to Bridgette's more visibly distraught friend.

"Hey, Gwen? Did you hear any of that, or were you too busy stewing with vengeance to catch it?"

"You're a fucking psychopath!" Gwen shouted back, "Why the fuck would I ever cooperate with you?"

Gwen walked briskly towards Bianca with murder in her eyes. Bianca's expression was unchanging.

"Because you're short on options, and because if you sign then Leshawna goes free."

"It doesn't matter if she goes free. You've destroyed her mind, you've destroyed her sense of self!" Gwen continued to yell as she got ever closer to Bianca.

"Oh come now," Bianca sighed, "You're being a drama queen, I merely…"

But before Bianca was able to finish her sentence, Gwen's brisk walking pace morphed into a full-fledged run, and once she was within a few feet of the older woman she pulled her right arm back and swung as hard as she could. Bianca blocked and grabbed it with ease.

She shook her head at Gwen and gave a knowing smirk before grabbing Gwen's arm with her other hand and swinging her around, smacking her against a steel prison door several times before throwing her on the floor. Bianca then pounced after Gwen, pinning her by the throat and pressing her knee into the younger woman's stomach. Noticing her friend was in danger, Bridgette attempted to intervene but was grabbed by Clifford. He didn't actively attack her, but his tight grip and looming presence made it fundamentally clear that Bridgette wasn't getting out of that room, and Gwen would have to face the consequences of Bianca's rage on her own.

"Alright, I'm usually a pretty patient person, but there's a limit to that, and that's when someone tries to punch me," Bianca said matter-of-factly, "So I'm at my wits end with your shit, either you start behaving like an adult, or your face is about to get really ugly."

Gwen acquiesced. She was still fuming mad, but she was smart enough to know when she was beaten.

"The only way to beat me is to sign that paper," Bianca reassured her, "Once you do that, I promise on my life I'll let her go."

A fairly uneventful half hour went by. Bianca added and clarified some of the minor details of what working for her entailed, including how the pay worked, and Gwen and Bridgette silently read through their contracts and signed in the places they needed to. Bianca looked into her now-employees eyes, Bridgette's being filled with regret and apprehension, Gwen still extremely pissed off, and a tinge of guilt ran across her face.

"This next part's gonna hurt," Bianca said nervously, "It almost makes me feel bad for you guys. Only almost, but still."

"Oh, so this next part is the bad part?" Gwen asked, "Alright, let's see where it goes. Now that I've signed my life away I might as well see how deep this rabbit hole gets."

Bianca didn't reply to Gwen. Instead she cleared her throat and raised her voice but a few decibels. "Leshawna, you can come out now!"

The two signees heard the sound of a mechanical gate unlocking, followed by footsteps slowly increasing in volume. When Leshawna finally showed up in the meeting room, her clothes were still torn and her hair was still ragged, but otherwise she appeared to be in perfectly healthy shape. She was also holding a large bronze key in her hand, presumably the key to her cell.

 _The key to her cell? How could she have had that the whole… oh my god._

"I'm sorry we had to trick you like that," Leshawna said apologetically, "But I swear it'll be worth it, you're gonna love working at XJA."

"Well so far in my time here I've gotten slammed into a door a bunch of times and then jerked around by a bunch of evil assholes," Gwen said exhaustedly, "So I'm not sure enjoyed is really the adjective coming to mind."

"Okay, who the fuck are you calling evil?" Leshawna started, "I promise you I'll-"

"Leshawna, please," Bianca said, "They've had a rough day. Just, give them a little space for now. And go take a shower, no offence but you smell like ass."

"Yeah, alright. Later girls, see ya tomorrow," Leshawna said before disappearing through the halls.

Gwen put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes, "Honestly I'd want to fucking kill you right now," she told Bianca, "But I'm just too fucking exhausted to care anymore."

"My emotions have long since stopped functioning," Bridgette chimed in, "Please tell me we're fucking done?"

"Yes, for today," Bianca said, "Eileen will be waking you up at 7 for training tomorrow, but for the rest of the night y'all are free to do whatever you want. Lights out is at… whatever, you're adults, if you're up for training after one hour of sleep that's on you. And speaking of Eileen, I guess I should go check on her, see how she's doing."

* * *

"You know you're right, by the way," Eileen told Heather.

"Really?" Heather asked, "About the divide and conquer strategy?"

"Yup," Eileen said, "Bianca knows better then anyone the power of collective bargaining, so she split you guys up. Made it seem way more of a personal, one-on-one affair while actually limiting the resources you have at your disposal."

"Classic executive strategy," Heather replied, "Bianca isn't the first person to use it, nor will she be the last."

"But what is somewhat unusual is the circumstance," Eileen said, "None of you actually have any real bargaining resources, seeing as there's no way we're letting you finish the night without signing that contract. The only thing you could even possibly hope to affect is how much you're paid, but when everything's 2-on-1… well even that's DOA."

"Wow, she really is the worst," Heather said.

"Bianca is… interesting," Eileen said, "She definitely has positive qualities once you get to know her, I mean she might be the most clever and resourceful person I've ever met. But she has _her way_ of doing things, and sometimes _her way_ isn't always the best way. I guess that's where I step in."

"Why do you work for her?" Heather asked, "I know you gotta eat to live and all but surely there has to be something else."

"It's a _really_ long story, and most of it is intensely boring," Eileen said, "If you're absolutely curious it'd probably be better to ask her, she's the better storyteller between the two of us anyway."

"No, no, it's quite alright. See, here's the thing I don't get," Heather mused, "If there was no chance of us affecting the outcome, then why even go through the process of negotiating and signing and all that. Why not just put a gun to our heads and say: 'sign or else'?"

"That's… kinda what I mean by her way," Eileen said, "I'm with you on this one, I'd have just brought out the gun, but Bianca wants to feel like she's a puppet-master and all that… it's a bit silly, but I suppose the end result is the same."

Heather and Eileen laughed a little bit, then Eileen looked wistfully at the stained-glass windows.

"Look, you're gonna have to sign the contract, there's no way around it," Eileen said, "But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to keep you and the others safe, from Bianca or whoever else."

"And truth be told I'm not sure why I trust you," Heather said, "But I guess you have to trust someone."

"And the other girls need you," Eileen added, "Everyone's a bit of a mess in their early 20s but you seem like the most stable. If anyone's going to be the glue for this unit, it'll be you."

"Me?" Heather asked, surprise creeping into her voice, "I figured if it was anyone it'd be Bridgette."

"Bridgette… has a lot going on in her life," Eileen said, "Exactly what is, I think, her story to tell, but there's gonna be times when she'll need an arm around her shoulder and someone telling her it's gonna be okay."

Heather didn't directly respond to Eileen. Instead she simply grabbed the contract that was hanging on the edge of the desk and began to read it. She did, however, briefly look up at the older woman.

"Thank you for trying to help, Eileen. I'll do the best I can."

"Anytime, Heather. But don't think I'm a marshmallow all of a sudden, I'm still gonna kick your ass in training tomorrow."

* * *

 _ **Coda**_

After Heather signed and left, Eileen sat at the desk and reflected on the day for a few moments. All things considered, she thought things went pretty well, at least compared to how disastrously they could've been. She then exited through the back door again, but this time made her way towards the lounge area. There she found Bianca, Clifford, and Leshawna all hanging around, watching and riffing on _Ghostbusters II_ with a couple of beer bottles lying underneath the table to complete the mood. Eileen took a seat next to Bianca, and Bianca definitely had a few things on her mind.

"That was a pretty good 'good cop, bad cop' routine we had going there," Bianca said, "Do you think Heather bought it?"

"Yeah, of course she bought it," Eileen said, "Though I prefer to think of it as like a starting and relief pitcher dynamic, where I'm coming in to clean up your mess."

"Oh, ha ha," Bianca said, "Well, whatever the case is, we got our team. Should be smooth sailing from here on out."

"Yeah, about that," Eileen said, "Forgive me if I'm overstepping a boundary here, but I'm curious: what exactly are the silver balloons for? I mean they're not actually a map, are they?"

"Of course not," Bianca said, "They're… more like batteries."

"Batteries for what?" Eileen asked.

"For a generator," Bianca replied, "As for what the generator does… well that's still an industry secret I'm afraid."

"So… how much of what you told the girls is actually true? I mean we know Chris is actually AWOL."

Eileen looked over to make sure Leshawna wasn't listening in on their conversation. Thankfully she seemed too drunk and enraptured by the terrible movie to care.

"Yes, peripheral aspects of the story are true," Bianca said, "Chris is technically missing, the balloons are real, and they will have to go to twelve different, um, places to actually find them. The difference is mostly in the consequences of their actions… ah, but they'll navigate that minefield as they go along."

"I hope things to well for them," Eileen said, "I really do like them, especially Heather. I don't know, maybe I'm just drawn to women with hidden insecurities."

"Oh Eileen, you're such a flatterer," Bianca deadpanned, "But don't worry, they'll do fine. Sure the end of their mission might yield unexpectedly disastrous results, but hey: it's about the journey, not the destination."


	4. IV: The Red Room

**Chapter IV:** **The Red Room**

 _ **Pre-Prelude; Location Unknown**_

The night was quiet and sombre, drenched in moonlight and hidden beneath the shadows of tall trees. A gentle breeze permeated the late-spring air, adding a small cooling element to an otherwise fairly warm and humid evening and preventing the heat from overwhelming. It was the kind of night you'd want to come back to after a long day of arduous labour, or any kind of stressful situation, where you could simply sit outside, kick your feet up and relax, enjoying the perfect weather, or at least perfect if not for those motherfucking mosquitos. But as much as Leshawna wanted to just waste the rest of the night away, she had something to take care of first.

Leshawna slammed the front door shut behind her with a thud. In a routine, fluid motion she dropped her sweater, kicked off her shoes, and quietly made her way up the stairs to the master bedroom. There she found her lover waiting for her in bed, wearing nothing but some boxer briefs and a pair of tube socks. He looked kind of pathetic, like a lazy old man who spent the whole day lounging around watching TV, waiting for his girlfriend to return home. Its entirely possible he didn't leave his bed the entire day, or only did to grab some food from the kitchen before promptly returning back. Still, the man had his charms, and its not as if Leshawna couldn't empathize with taking the day off to sit on your ass.

"You're back," he said excitedly, sitting up in his bed to get a better look at her.

"Yeah, I'm back," Leshawna said, "About damn time too, that cell was cramped and fucking disgusting. Smelled like a man died in there too."

"I can imagine," the man said, "What were its dimensions, like 6 by 9? That's not a lot of space."

"Yeah I think 6 by 11, or something like that," Leshawna said as she made her way over to her dresser, "But we got what we wanted, so I can't complain."

"All of them?" he asked.

"All 5, yeah," Leshawna said, "Though we only needed to use the cell to get Bridgette and Gwen, the other three apparently agreed earlier."

"All in one day?" He asked, "Well colour me pleasantly surprised, I thought for sure at least Heather was gonna be a holdout."

"I wasn't worried about Heather," Leshawna said, "Heather talks like she knows shit, but she's a marshmallow. Twist her arm enough and she'll cave. I thought Courtney would be the stubborn idiot who refuses to tap out even with two broken arms and blood pouring from her face, but I guess I was wrong too."

"Do you know how she got them to acquiesce?"

Leshawna sighed as she applied some eyeshadow. "With Courtney, Bianca got her by chipping away at her self-esteem, basically. Using her own experiences against her and casting doubt over everything she's accomplished. I wish I could've been there to see it myself, cuz Bianca made it sound like this work of art."

"That… that doesn't seem a little unethical to you?"

"Uh… no, of course not. If anyone knows how to put someone back together after she's torn them apart, it's Bianca. I mean look at me, I didn't know it at the time, but I needed to be… I don't know, reborn almost. I wouldn't have believed I was special otherwise, and she's the only person who can do that."

"Don't I make you feel special?" the man asked.

"Georges, you make me feel special in… other ways. But you're not the only person who could do that."

"Wait, but I-"

"I mean don't get me wrong, you're good," Leshawna added, "But good dick is not that rare. Or at least not as rare as someone who handed the keys to direct the fate of the world. I mean, I'm just a 21-year-old girl, I have no business being around any of this important shit. Yet here I am, I guess."

Georges said nothing, though his disappointed look in Leshawna's direction communicated what it needed to.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you down like that," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm just tired is all, and I'm not thinking about what I'm saying before I'm saying it."

"This isn't the first time that's happened," Georges said.

"Yeah well, welcome to dating Leshawna, get used to it."

Georges looked at her apprehensively. "Is this something I'm gonna have to get used to? It wouldn't be that hard for you to think before you just blurt things out."

"Boy," Leshawna said, looking bewildered, "You've really never dated anyone except white girls from the suburbs before, haven't you?"

"I, uh… I'm not quite sure how to respond to that."

"Awkwardly laugh and then change the subject is what you usually do," Leshawna replied, "Why change up the formula now?"

Georges nervously laughed and, after some deliberation, essentially did as he was told. "So tell me more about the negotiations? How did you guys get the others to sign?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Leshawna said, sliding underneath the covers next to him, "For now I'm in the mood, if you know what I mean."

Leshawna began nibbling on her lover's neck and slipped her hand underneath his boxer shorts. Georges breathing became heavy and ragged and she could tell that he wanted it. Though its not like he ever didn't.

"Hmmm, that's nice," Georges said, "Though I do have kind of an early morning-"

Leshawna immediately killed the lights and then jumped on top of him.

"Fuck your early morning," she said.

* * *

 _ **Prelude**_

Two familiar faces were standing on a stage. The room was dark, the cameras weren't rolling, and there was no audience, or at least no diegetic one, just the two figures standing approximately fifteen feet apart from one and other, both positioned at a three-quarters angle. The woman on the left was holding a small series of cue cards that she was periodically looking down at, the one on the right apparently confined all her notes to a single page. The stage itself was positioned a good ten feet off the ground, enough to make a perfect angle for an auditorium that, in this case, just didn't exist. What did exist, perhaps the only things that existed, were Bianca John and Eileen Alvarez.

"Eileen, you're probably wondering what happened to the girls the day after they signed their contracts," Bianca said awkwardly.

"I, uh," Eileen momentarily stammered before looking down at her notes, "Yes, I am. What happened to them?"

"Well, the physicals were largely a formality," Bianca said," If they weren't, we wouldn't have allowed a pregnant woman to pass, that's for sure."

Eileen laughed robotically, "So what was the point then?"

"Well mostly it was to make sure no one had some kind of secret life-threatening illness that we didn't know about."

"True, as badly as we want this team, we couldn't well proceed if one of them turned out to have, say, skin cancer."

"We most certainly couldn't. And as a bonus, we also got some DNA samples," Bianca added, "Those are sure to come in handy later."

"Wait what are we using DNA samples for?" Eileen asked.

Bianca shot her a nervous side glance, to which Eileen just put her hands up as if to say, "what did I do?" Finally Bianca whispered, "you're off script."

"Oh, sorry," Eileen said, before clearing her throat and pulling out her paper again, "So, what happened after the physical, Bianca?"

"Well, they were sent to The Red Room."

"Ah, the Red Room," Eileen mused, "That's where they will retrieve the first of twelve silver balloons, no?"

"Correct," Bianca said, "And given that the dangers are relatively minimal, though not completely absent, and there'll be no psychological warp or spin, this will be a good opportunity to learn how to retrieve said silver balloons."

"But you can still get lost in the cornfields," Eileen said.

"Yeah and you can still encounter… other distractions. Especially when you're by yourself."

"That's a good observation," Eileen said, "Sometimes when I'm by myself I'll just sit around all day and think about-"

"Eileen!" Bianca scolded.

"What, I was just gonna say cats," Eileen responded.

Bianca paused for a few seconds, then finally her façade broke into a chuckle, with Eileen following suit.

"This is so dumb," Bianca murmured while laughing, before regaining her (somewhat) theatrical composure. "Anyways, if we're all on the same page-"

"Wait just one moment," Eileen said, "I do have one last question; why is it called The Red Room?"

"Now that, my friend, is another tale for another time. So if we're all on the same page, let's check in on Courtney."

"Yes, let's," Eileen said, "Wait who is 'we'?"

* * *

 _ **The Red Room; 90°S, 179°E**_

Courtney smelled the ocean. Even as someone not from the coast, that aroma of salty water and feel of warm, gentle air was absolutely unmistakeable to her. The fact that she was laying in sand certainly didn't hurt this interpretation. But, uh, _which ocean?_ Where was she? Last thing she remembered she was in greater Toronto, and then she ended up in… wherever Bianca's HQ was. How did she get by the ocean in the first place?

After getting up and dusting herself off, she began to notice some things about this place that were decidedly… off. The sky was red, and not even like a sunset sky where light near the horizon reverberates into a bunch of different colours, no, the sky was a deep, violent crimson all the way through. There were a few stars scattered in the sky too but they looked off somehow, Courtney couldn't quite place a finger on what they were but they didn't really look like stars, the light coming from them was a little too uniform and artificial. And strangest of all, off into the distance to her right there was this… thing on the beach. She couldn't quite tell what it was, it was too far away to identify any sort of distinguishing characteristics, but it did not look normal.

As she was studying the nature of this bizarre creature, Courtney heard her phone vibrate. She looked around and saw her handbag lying right behind her; somehow she hadn't noticed it until now, and her phone was mercifully at the very top of the pile. After pulling it out, she noticed a text from Bianca.

"Hi, welcome to The Red Room," it read, "if you have any questions, please text me back at this number."

Um… questions abounded.

"Where am I?" Courtney asked.

"You're in The Red Room," Bianca replied, "coordinates 90°S, 179°E."

"Okay, that answered nothing," Courtney said aloud.

She thought for a moment about the information she'd need to gather, then came up with her follow-up question.

"Where am I going?"

"You're looking to retrieve the first Silver Balloon," Bianca said, "In order to do that, you need to head towards 90°N."

Ah okay, so this is literally just a journey from the south pole to the north pole and- wait a minute.

"If this is the south pole, why is it not cold?"

"Because you're not in Antarctica, you're in The Red Room."

"So this Red Room is some kind of simulated universe?"

"I guess you could think of it that way."

Oh for fuck sake.

"So how long will it take me to get from point A to point B?"

"Better start walking."

Admittedly, that reply made her laugh a little. It was, granted, a fatalistic laughter, a realization that was probably gonna reach middle age before ever escaping from this strange hellworld, and she was beginning to come to terms with just how strange and fucked up her life had been. Probably her best course of action would've been to never sign up for that awful reality show, but that might've only delayed the inevitable.

Courtney grabbed a handful of the maroon sand she'd been stepping around in. It was a bit thicker and earthier then normal sand, almost like halfway between sand and dirt. Whatever could've produced the consistency and the strange colour were a mystery to her, but mysteries had been piling on so constantly that Courtney figured the best thing to do at this point was just to experience the world at its own pace and ask questions only when pertinent. As difficult as that might be for her.

Speaking of mysteries, it was only at this point that Courtney noticed her outfit. She was pretty exposed, wearing nothing but a yellow two-piece bikini and a pair of flip flops. She began to panic; okay, this was something she needed to ask.

"Why am I wearing a bikini?" Courtney texted, "What happened to my normal clothes?"

No response.

 _I fucking hate this bitch,_ Courtney thought. She did like the way she felt in the bikini, so that was a plus. Under different circumstances she'd probably be wearing it proudly. But waking up in a completely different outfit from the one she was wearing before, with no explanation as to why? That had happened to her before, and it wasn't something she ever wanted to happen again.

She started taking deep breaths. If she ever wanted to get out of here she needed to stay calm and think were way through this. Having a panic attack was not going to help right now.

The sand seemed to stretch on for miles in three directions. In the fourth, presumably south, was the salty ocean that almost looked more like a lagoon, with water opaque as tar and black as the night sky, or at least the normal night sky. In the other three directions the beach never seemed to stop, or if it did it was long past the horizon. _Better start walking,_ she remembered in her head, and there was nothing else she could really do except that, just grab her handbag and start venturing north, alone with nothing but her phone and her thoughts. Maybe she'd find an open concession stand so she could at least grab water or something.

* * *

 _ **90°S, 135°E**_

Bridgette awoke gently drifting in the shallow water. This probably should have freaked her out, but she always felt more at home in the ocean anyway. What did concern her was the water's sludgy black hue, but it didn't seem to feel or smell any different from regular saltwater. If she died from some sort of invisible toxin the blackwater was seeping into her bloodstream, at least it would be a pleasant death.

 _Ah, but I can't die though,_ Bridgette thought, _the baby has to come first._

She looked up at the red sky glowering above her. Red skies usually meant a storm was coming, but she didn't feel any strong directional wind or any of the other telltale signs she was about to get rained on. It was a still red sky, kinda like if a sunset somehow swallowed the entire astral plane. It was quite beautiful, if more then a little unsettling, and was the clearest indicator that wherever she was, it wasn't the allegorical Kansas anymore.

Bridgette's phone started to ring. Given the laundry list of notifications on its face, this clearly wasn't the first time whoever this was had tried calling.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Bridgette heard what was unmistakably Bianca's voice, "I'm just letting you know you've been lying in the water for like 3 hours and you should probably get a move on."

"Has it really been that long?" Bridgette asked groggily, "I feel like I just woke up."

"Well yeah, you've been asleep most of that time," Bianca said, "Frankly I don't know how its possible to just sleep in the water like that but you are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I… guess?" Bridgette said, "Okay so by get a move on, where exactly am I going?"

"Just start walking up the beach, away from the water," Bianca said, "You're currently at 90°S, you need to get to 90°N."

"Can I swim there?" Bridgette asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Can I swim there? In any three-dimensional plane-"

"Yes, I know how globes work," Bianca said, "But no, you can't swim there. You're not in a 3D surface, if you try to swim the opposite direction… well let's just say you shouldn't if you want to keep your skeleton intact."

"Yikes," Bridgette replied.

"Yikes indeed," Bianca said, "So, about ten feet away from the waterline you'll find a little bag. Anything you could possibly need for your journey is in there."

"Wait, how do you know all this?" Bridgette asked, "Did you design this place? Do you have cameras that can see inside? I mean if you know who Chris McLean is then-"

"Look, just know that I can tell where you are within The Red Room. If you have any more questions just text this number back. Goodbye Bridgette."

"But wait I wasn't-"

Bianca abruptly hung up, leaving Bridgette still wanting for answers. Answers that, at least for now, weren't coming. She thought about texting Bianca but given how quickly she cut everything off it would likely just lead to more evasive questions or no answer at all. So Bridgette did they only thing she could do and began her long trek northwards.

At about ten minutes in the maroon sand began to give way to more traditionally coloured grass and shrubs. The hot, barely present wind that had followed her since she had woken up began to subside in favour of a stronger, slightly cooler one, though it still wasn't exactly chilly. Bridgette was by now beginning to grow comfortable with her own intrusive thoughts, most of which she was not yet ready to share with the world. But when you've just had maybe the most chaotic 2 days of your life followed by what felt like hours of deathly silence, your brain will begin to go places you didn't necessarily want it to. Mostly, she began to wonder if her boyfriend was even worried about her at all.

She knew this was probably a melodramatic thought. If Navdeep wasn't concerned they wouldn't be together. But so much of their relationship had consisted of her taking care of him, she had no idea how he would handle the shoe being on the other foot. Has he even tried to contact her, and even if he has, would he be capable at all of comforting her and trying to help her through her trauma? Hell was he even capable of taking care of herself, would Bridgette arrive back at her apartment in however long this took to find him dead on the couch?

 _Being alone and scared is not a healthy combination,_ Bridgette thought to try and right her mental ship, _let's just find this fucking balloon and get out of here, I'll worry about anything else afterwards._

Out in the distance Bridgette saw something promising, what looked like a single food stand in the middle of the vast savannah. It was such an odd sight, almost surreal in a way, but there was no mistaking what she saw. And though she was not nearly close enough to see his face, there was also a solitary man there, just waiting, seeming perfectly still.

 _Okay, there's no way a legitimate business would just park in the middle of nowhere like this,_ Bridgette thought, _he's clearly waiting for me, or at least someone like me. Still, if he has information… or better yet, food. I am quite hungry._

Bridgette began to approach the cart. The man remained still, and his now visible face remained expressionless, though his gaze shifted slightly towards her.

"Hello," Bridgette said, "How are you doing today?"

"Hello Bridgette Summers, welcome to The Red Room," the man said with no hint of tone or inflection, "We hope you enjoy your stay."

"Uh… thanks man," Bridgette said, "So… what exactly is The Red Room? An alternate universe? Some kind of digital simulation?"

"Is there anything you'd like to buy?" the man continued, "We are currently selling cold-pressed juices at half their standard price."

"Okay, I guess we're getting nowhere here too," Bridgette sighed, "That does sound kinda nice though, you got any food to go along with that?"

"Affirmative, we have… hot dogs," the man said.

"And…?" Bridgette asked. After getting no response, she continued, "I don't eat meat, do you at least have veggie dogs?"

"We do," the man said, "And your juice?"

"Got anything with lemon in it?"

"One veggie dog and a Brain Healer, coming right up," the man continued, making his voice louder without ever changing that disturbingly neutral tone.

"Thank you for your patronage, your total comes up to zero dollars and zero cents," he said, firing up the grill.

"Do you t- wait, zero? Are you sure?"

"Zero dollars and zero cents," the man repeated.

"Uh…" Bridgette began, but before she could continue her phone went off. She had received a text from Bianca that read:

"ur an idiot, and you deserve whatever happens to you"

No sooner did Bridgette put her phone down then she suddenly felt like her lungs collapsed. Looking down through now tear-drenched eyes she saw a knee barrelling into her stomach. After fighting her first instinct to just lie down and gasp for air, she stumbled backwards tried desperately to stay on her feet while simultaneously recovering her breath. When she looked up she unsurprisingly found the food stand cashier was the one attacking her, and he was quickly moving towards her to strike again.

Running backwards as fast as she could in her current state, Bridgette quickly had a change of heart. _I'm not going to be able to outrun this guy,_ she thought, _the only thing I can do is fight back._ So she quickly changed courses and began running back towards him, hoping to gain just enough air in the 2-3 pace distance to land a solid quick right into his stupid blank face. She took two giant steps, gained elevation and…

It wasn't enough. The man quickly grabbed her outstretched leg and slammed her into the ground. Bridgette had about three-quarters of a second to gather just how fucked she was before he knelt down, pressed his leg on her chest, and raised his right arm up to strike her face. Whatever happened next, she wasn't conscious for it.

* * *

 _ **84°S, 90°E**_

While Bridgette's first few hours in The Red Room went less than fantastically, Heather was having a much different experience. In her part of the world, when the maroon beaches began to fade out, instead of a wide-open savannah vulnerable to creepy weirdos, Heather found herself in the middle of a dense, lush, forest, filled to the brim with all sorts of life, some familiar to Heather others… less so. While the limited pathways meant it was very easy to get lost, it almost meant it was very easy to not be found, whether by dangerous animal predators or any other unfortunate souls in this godforsaken place who meant her harm. And unlike the eerie quiet of the grasslands or the beach, this forest was vibrant, though oddly teal, giving her much less of an opportunity to start spiraling. There were much more immediate threats to worry about.

Heather sat about two feet away from the large, beige trunk of… some sort of tree, she had no clue which species. She had managed to start a small fire from some leaves, sticks, and a lighter she carried with her, though she'd yet to find anything to actually cook in said fire. No matter, at least she was warm, and at least she had a few cigarettes left to keep the hunger somewhat at bay. She went to go light one when her phone went off.

"Hey," the text from Bianca read, "would you like me to send you an iguana?"

She'd completely forgotten about Bianca's attempts to communicate with her. She'd gotten that initial text explaining what The Red Room actually was but had never bothered to text her back, she figured she'd either get incomplete, sketchy responses or no responses at all. She simply began walking away from the water, figuring that whatever her goal was, it probably wasn't in the direction where she could easily drown. Everything from then on happened entirely on her own… until now.

"An iguana?" Heather texted back.

"Yeah to cook," Bianca continued, "You started a fire so I figure I could treat you."

Heather was quite confused, to put it mildly.

"So… ur just helping me? No strings attached or nothing?"

"Is there a problem with that?"

"No just… send me the damn iguana. And thank you, I think."

About fifteen seconds later, a man on a bicycle wearing a UPS uniform rolled up to Heather's small clearing.

"Delivery for Heather Anno?" he said.

"Yeah that's mine," Heather replied.

The delivery man simply dropped off a brown box and hopped back on his bike.

"Wait before you go can you take me-" but the man was long gone before Heather could even finish her sentence.

"Well, at least I didn't have to sign anything," Heather sighed, opening up the box to find a frozen iguana inside. She then realized her food problems hadn't entirely been solved.

"I have no idea how to cook this thing," Heather said aloud, "I've only ever even eaten this like… twice in my life at most? Oh well, trial and error I guess."

As she began cooking the frozen reptile on an open flame, she received one final text from Bianca.

"watch out for Adria"

 _Adria? Who the hell was Adria? I'm getting really fucked tired of Bianca being pointlessly cryptic and evasive. Can you not just give straightforward instructions for once in your life?_

She got her answer soon enough. No less than a minute after Bianca sent her text did a gigantic red bird land right in front of Heather, opposite the fire. The bird appeared to resemble a cardinal, except for the small detail of being at least nine-and-a-half feet tall from head to feet, maybe more. And though it was difficult to tell the expression of a bird, it didn't look all that happy to see her, their red fur making their already angry (or maybe just hungry) expression seem that much angrier. Heather had seen a few larger-than-normal animals since arriving in this place, but this was absurd.

"Oh… hello," Heather said, "You must be Adria."

The bird bared their very un-cardinal-like fangs at Heather. By now she was beginning to shake, and thoughts were racing through her mind. Her first instinct was to make a run for it. She was significantly smaller then the cardinal so if she was able to get away it shouldn't be that difficult to hide. Something told her no, though, for whatever reason she felt like the right decision was to stand her ground. And if that was the plan, well it made sense to start with a peace offering.

"Would you like some iguana?" Heather asked, as Adria looked at the fire curiously. "It's uh… it's a little undercooked but…"

Heather pulled the stick she was roasting the reptile on out of the fire. After spotting the burning meat, Adria instantly lunged forward, straight through the fire. Heather then braced for impact, but Adria only pulled the semi-cooked iguana off the end of the stick with their teeth, then swallowed the whole thing in one terrifying gulp.

"Oh, I didn't mean… well that's okay, I promised myself I wasn't gonna eat anymore meat anyway."

Adria tilted their head and looked at Heather. It was, once again, difficult to tell the expression of a bird, even a large one, but they definitely seemed intrigued by her at the very least. That was good; though Heather was a competent fighter for someone her size, if the bird genuinely wanted to devour her she'd be long dead by now.

"Do you have any friends?" Heather asked, slowly maneuvering around the fire to get closer to the bird. Could they even understand her? She seemed to be able to, but its also possible she just smelled the roaring fire and the cooking iguana and wanted to get her talons on it.

Adria did seem to take notice of where Heather was moving though. They stared at the young woman for a couple of seconds, then flew directly through the flames towards her again. The apparently fire-resistant bird landed right next to Heather, who by this point was just trying desperately to hold herself together. After what was probably only about a second but felt like eons, Adria leaned down and began nuzzling their head against Heather's neck and shoulder.

"Well I guess you have at least one now," Heather smiled and laughed while petting Adria on the top of their head. The two new companions sat by the fire for some time longer, simply enjoying their newfound not-loneliness. Out of all the horrors Heather dreaded to find waiting for her in The Red Room, she couldn't have imagined that she'd ever feel genuinely nice.

"So what else do you eat, besides iguanas?" Heather asked.

Adria used their one free wing to make a big, all-encompassing gesture as if to say "everything".

"Well that makes my job a little easier," Heather said, "I've never really taken care of an animal before, so forgive me if I fuck up at first, ok?"

It was true, Heather never really had a lot of pets growing up. She did have a dog for a few years when she was young, but her parents mostly took care of him and he had to be given away well before she was really capable of looking after a living creature. Since then, nothing. Its not like she ever felt deprived, getting people to like (or at least respect) her wasn't something Heather ever struggled much and the notion that friendship was something she valued was something that came… later in life for her. But with Adria here she did begin to wonder if she had been missing out after all. Oh well.

"Long shot, but you wouldn't happen to know where I can find a silver balloon, would you? I have to find one in order to get back home."

Adria's bright emerald eyes lit up, which could only mean one thing.

"You do know! How do you know?"

Adria looked at Heather pensively, clearly trying to communicate… something, but Heather couldn't tell exactly what.

"Alright, I guess it doesn't really matter how you know. Can you take me there?"

Adria nodded and motioned for Heather to climb on their back. She obliged and quickly braced for take-off, steeling herself and gripping onto Adria's fur tightly for the inevitable force that'd try to knock her off, but she began to have second thoughts.

"Wait, have you done this before? Are you sure its safe? And what about the fiiiiiiiiiiiiiire!"

Heather didn't even get to finish her sentence before Adria shot up into the sky, hovering about ten feet in the air above where the two had been sitting moments ago.

"Oh… fuck," a somewhat disoriented Heather said through trying to rediscover her bearings. "Wait, what about-"

Before she was able to finish, Adria dove back down and tilted their body, dragging their long, majestic right wing through the pit to reduce the campfire to mere embers, before quickly pivoting to avoid any nearby trees or bushes. Once they were in the clear, Adria took off once again and flew due north towards the horizon, with Heather, euphoric and incredibly dizzy, trying desperately to hold on for dear life, and the beautiful red sky painting the two of them in a heroic glowing light. It was time to get the balloon, end this damn ordeal already and shove it Bianca's stupid jerk face.

About 90 minutes later little had changed. The sky seemed to be set in eternal sunset mode, with its red glow either waxing or waning. The only way to tell the time had passed at all was by looking at the positions of the stars (which still looked more like very distant, very luminous lightbulbs). Some stars had moved westward across the sky, and some near the horizon had popped in or out of view, but that was of little help to anyone who wasn't very familiar with Red Room astrology, and a young Terran adult spending her first day here like Heather most certainly wasn't. She could just look at her phone, but she also had no way of knowing if a minute here was the same length as a minute back home, or even if they used seconds, minutes, or hours at all. This was all to say that the only thing Heather knew for sure is that she'd been here for a while and was beginning to grow weary.

"Adria, how are you doing?" Heather asked. "Feeling tired? Wanna find a place to crash for a few hours?"

Adria said nothing, but the fact that the cardinal had been slowly decreasing in speed and altitude over the last 20 minutes or so was telling. They weren't flying dangerously low or anything close to it, but it was probably good to quit before trouble started. Problem was that the lush teal forests from which they had emerged had largely dissipated and been replaced by miles upon miles upon miles of barren, adobe desert. Crashing in the middle of the wide-open sand dunes would be uncomfortable but manageable if not for the fact that from the sky Heather had spotted at least three of what were almost certainly feral dogs. In the air they posed no threat, on the ground; at the risk of stating the obvious that wasn't the case.

"We need to find a town somewhere," Heather said, "Maybe there'll be a motel or at least some kind of enclosure." That was a tall order considering they had yet to see one, but maybe as they got closer to 0°S they'd become more prevalent. One could only hope.

But just as Heather began to make plans for sleepy time, she suddenly got a weird feeling in her gut. It wasn't illness, after the initial dizziness from being airborne had worn off she'd felt perfectly fine physically, it was more of a sense of impending danger. More specifically, it was a sense that she needed to be somewhere, somewhere that wasn't here. And Adria seemed to feel it to, because without warning they made a sharp leftward curve and began flying due west. By this point Heather was used to the ebb and flow of Adria's flying so she was able to retain her balance, but she was still irritated with just how sudden it was.

"Hey Adria, be careful, you almost knocked me off." Heather said.

Adria however didn't respond, not even with a gesture or a glance, and instead had only picked up speed and altitude coming out of the curve. Heather got the sense the bird knew exactly where they were going and why they needed to go there. And while Heather still wasn't totally clear as to the where, she had a deep, stomach-churning hunch about the why.

Gwen was in danger.

* * *

 _ **56°S, 48°E**_

Gwen was far from in danger. She sat in the back car of a northbound train, her bleached blonde hair blowing in time with the wind, calmly sipping her green tea. She knew her journey was far from over, but up until this point her trials had actually been relatively smooth sailing. Annoying and laborious perhaps, but never particularly hazardous.

When she woke up on the beach at The Red Room's southernmost extremity she got that familiar text from Bianca telling her she needed to venture north, just like everyone else. Instead, though, Gwen decided to walk east along the shoreline, though after a while she did move a little bit north so she could at least walk on solid grass instead of perpetually sinking sand. She felt it was probably a good idea to get a bit more familiar with her new surroundings before mindlessly venturing forth to greet whatever nightmare Bianca had set up for her. She couldn't tell you why she picked east instead of west, but it turned out to be the right decision. Because no more then about a 40-minute walk from her starting point, and less than one kilometre out from the blackwater ocean's springtide peak sat one solitary train station, abandoned at the edge of the world, with only one track leading in or out. It wasn't much, but it was all she needed.

There was, according to the schedule posted, only one inbound train and one outbound train per day, and when Gwen arrived the outbound train wasn't coming for another three hours. It was annoying, but she was willing to wait. Making matters worse, the ticket machine was unsurprisingly unable to accept Canadian money. Gwen thought about trying to hide on the train as some kind of stowaway, but before committing to that she at least tried to be honest and explain her situation to the conductor. If they were unresponsive… there would be other ways to get where she was going.

Mercifully, Gwen got lucky. Picking up passengers from this station was apparently so rare that the conductor decided to let her board anyway on the condition that she promised to pay upon arrival at the train's final destination, Union Station in Ciudad Hóngsè (the largest station The Red Room's southernmost big city). She also explained that within the station there would be a teller who'd be able to convert all different various kinds of foreign money into Czerwonybux (The Red Room's currency), though the spot was busy and the wait time was often several hours. No matter, its not like Gwen had a time limit or anything.

The train itself was unlike anything she'd ever experienced back home. From the outside it looked indistinguishable from a nineteenth century steam engine, but once Gwen stepped inside the engine to talk to the conductor, she noticed there was no coal burning, no steam, nothing beyond the aesthetics was present. Instead, the train ran entirely on electrical power, which of course wasn't unheard of in Canada and was more common elsewhere in the world; but coupled with the train's old-fashioned appearance it was an absolutely beautiful thing to behold. Consequently the conductor, Fatima, was really only needed in case of emergencies (i.e. if the train broke down or if there was a missed signal and an accident was imminent) and given how isolated most of this train line was she was very rarely needed. Honestly, it wasn't difficult to imagine that part of why she was so willing to let Gwen hop abord without paying is that she wanted someone to talk to.

The train did get busier as it approached Ciudad Hóngsè, and upon reaching its terminus it was actually pretty packed. From there, after going through the currency exchange and, with a little excess cash, buying herself a tea and a cool new hat, Gwen reached a bit of a fork in the road. There were trains heading all across The Red Room, such as to Rouge Stadt to the east, Villeroja to the west, and somewhere called Mji Rossa, but according to Fatima Gwen needed to get to Cittàrot, which took her the furthest north and, consequently, the closest to that elusive motherfucking silver balloon. This time paying wasn't an issue, though finding an open seat was more of one as she had to go all the way to the back of the very last car to get two seats to herself. And as she walked through the train cars she couldn't help but notice that she was being stared at, as if everyone could tell she wasn't from around here. Not that Gwen minded all that much though, I mean she had been on TV before.

And that brings us back to about where we started, with Gwen, having boarded her second train of the day, stared wistfully out the window at wild prairie dogs running underneath that beautiful scarlet sky and contemplated the meaning of life, or whatever people do when they're at a moment of peace. But that peace wouldn't last long, as Gwen found an unexpected spectre from her past in her train car.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, hovering above the seat across from Gwen.

"Sure go ahead," Gwen said, "I'm not saving it for anyone."

Gwen pulled out her phone, hoping that she was somehow able to get data or receive messages from someone other then Bianca. She knew she wasn't, and wasn't surprised when the results came up negative, but its not like it ever hurt to try. When she put her phone away though she caught her first good glimpse at the lady who sat down across from her and immediately noticed her unmistakeable purple hair. Gwen rubbed her eyes to make sure they weren't deceiving her, but when she opened them back up she was still there.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know-?"

"Sierra Johannes?" the woman asked, "Is that what you were gonna ask?"

"So it is you," Gwen said calmly, "I thought it was. How's it going girl?"

"You… don't seem that surprised?" Sierra asked.

"I've bumped into a lot of ghosts over the past few days, so no, I'm not all that surprised," Gwen explained, "Though it's a bit weird meeting you in here, and not with the others when we were kidnapped."

"Do we really have to talk about that?" Sierra asked, "Let's just shoot the shit, y'know? We're two old friends, catching up on a train together and-"

"Fuck! That!" Gwen shouted. Not only did her words seem to carry across the entire car, but as she was shouting Sierra noticed her teacup crack and her eyes briefly flash red before returning to their natural black colour. When Gwen recovered her composure she saw Sierra staring at her, confused and even a little bit afraid.

"I'm so sorry, this isn't about you," Gwen said remorsefully, "Since I got here I've been getting nothing but cryptic messages and vague promises from Bianca, so I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who'd be straight with me. But I get it, if this is difficult for you we don't have to talk about it."

Sierra smiled and briefly laughed. "Don't worry, I totally get how frustrating Bianca can be. And its not that I'm uncomfortable talking about it I'd just… rather not bring it up in public. Trust me, you never know who might be listening in."

"Oh yeah, it'd make sense Bianca would have spies," Gwen said resignedly.

"Well yes, but there are much worse people to be listening in then just her," Sierra said, before switching gears, "You're heading to Cittàrot, right?"

"Yeah," Gwen said, "Why?"

"My home is in Cittàrot," Sierra said, "And I know its hard for outsiders to tell but its getting late. Why don't you spend the night? I can tell you everything I know over dinner."

"Wait, your home? You live here?"

"Well, I do _now_ ," Sierra said, "It's a long story, but I can only explain it if you take me up on my offer."

"Um…" Gwen said hesitantly, "Let me think about it."

"Gwen, I know you noticed the wild dogs outside," Sierra said sternly, "Trust me, you're going to want a place to stay for the night."

Gwen shrugged, "Y'know what, sure, why the hell not? Its not like I have anywhere else to go. If this is all a trap, then I guess I deserve whatever's coming."

"Yay, Gwen's staying over!" Sierra said, finally showing a glimpse of that manic personality she was known for 5 years earlier. "I know you're not gonna believe it, but I never actually had a lot of friends in middle or high school so I never actually got to do this with anyone. It's gonna be so great, I just bought some fresh carrots and potatoes and I can make the best stir fry, and then I'll tell you everything and trust me girl I have sooooo much tea to spill, and then-"

"Wait a second Sierra," Gwen said, "You're not still mad about… y'know."

"What do I know?" Sierra asked.

"Y'know… that whole Cody thing?" Gwen asked.

Sierra started laughing, "Gwen, we're adults now. That's all teenager shit, I haven't thought about that boy in years. Besides, men are trash anyway, in situations like these us girls have to stick together."

"Hmmm," Gwen said, smiling, "I like the way you think. I'm excited to see where you're gonna take me."

* * *

 _ **Interlude**_

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day," Bianca said, reading from her copy of Macbeth before slowly tilting her head upwards.

"Ah," she said, "Hello there, my name is Bianca John. I hope you enjoyed Chapter IV of How To Retrieve Silver Balloons, but either way I would like to apologize on behalf of the author for the extreme length of time between chapters III and IV. Without getting too much into the weeds, this chapter was an absolute nightmare to write, and if not for the ongoing quarantine it might've taken even longer."

Bianca paused for a moment to take her reading glasses off, before addressing the audience once again.

"Speaking of which, while in this universe everyone is perfectly healthy, I'm aware that's not the case in yours. I hope all of you are staying inside and practicing social distancing. Seriously, this pandemic is bad enough, we don't need to make it worse just through civilian irresponsibility."

Bianca took a big long sip of coffee, before turning back to face the audience one last time.

"That's about all I have for now. Oh, and stay tuned for Chapter V. Will Gwen be okay? Is Sierra friend or foe? Even I don't know, and I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it, so I hope y'all are excited too!"


End file.
